A New Obsession
by Cookyie
Summary: Immediately following S4 finale. Gail's POV of what's happening.
1. Chapter 1

Because I can't get these two out of my head. Again, any mistakes are mine.

* * *

"He's stable."

Everyone in the waiting room lets out a collective sigh. I let out the breath that I didn't know I had been holding. I feel a tight squeeze on my left hand. I turn to Holly.

"Thank God," she says, her eyes shining.

"I know."

"Okay, officers," Frank continues, "we know he's out of the woods now, so let's go home, clean up, and get some rest alright? We need to get back out on the streets for our man down."

There's a lot of bumbling and clattering as the officers all slowly rise as one and start shuffling out. I remain seated. Holly doesn't move. Her hand's still in mine. It's warm and I like the way her hand fits in mine.

I lean back into the waiting chair and hang my head back. I close my eyes. I'm so exhausted that I don't even know how to put it into words. You know that feeling when your heart's so heavy and yet your mind's completely blank at the same time? Yeah, that feeling.

"Hey."

I open my eyes and see Holly smiling at me.

"I don't think that's the most comfortable position to be sleeping in."

"I know. I just…need a moment."

"Okay then," Holly leans back against her chair and mimics my position, "a moment it is."

Her hand's still in mine. I know I should still be worried for Chloe. And I am. But at the same time, my thoughts are on the woman next to me. She fought her way into the fort walls I built. I thought I closed them off forever. Especially after Nick left me. Again. For the second time.

But I'm really glad she's here. It's like a breath of fresh air having a friend outside of 15 Division. Don't get me wrong, I live for my job. I mean, how could I not? Being a Peck kind of requires a complete wholesomely unhealthy dedication to law enforcement. And because of that, my entire social life for the past years always existed within the division.

Then Holly came along. She changed the game. A game changer. You ever meet somebody and maybe you don't know it at first, but you start to realize that it's different with them? They make you feel things that you didn't know you could feel. They make you want to vomit at the same time they make you want to jump for glee.

"PECK!" My eyes snap open and I jump up from my seat, dropping Holly's hand in the process. Frank's walking towards me.

"Yes sir?"

"Go home. I don't want you here in this room anymore. Swarek's stable and there's nothing we can do for Price but wait to see what the doctors say. Go. Home."

Frank eyes Holly, who's still sitting in her seat. "Make sure she gets home, doctor."

"You got it."

Frank turns away from us and back to the doctor who's still standing by the counter.

"Well, you heard him. I'm supposed to get you home." Holly stands and stretches her arms. As she stretches, I try not to look at the skin that shows from underneath her shirt.

"Alright then, get me home."

"Yes, officer."

I follow her out the door and into the cold air.

"Geezus, it's freezing." I shiver and stick my hands into my jacket pockets.

"_You're_ cold?" Holly whips her head around. "you're the one wearing a thick fur jacket and here I am wearing the only jacket I could find in the living room because I was in such a rush to get here after your phone call!"

"God, sorry," I roll my eyes, "next time, don't come then!"

"Oh, no I'll still come. You'll just need to find a way to compensate for it."

I know she's flirting with me. And I like it. And I want to do something back. I run up from behind her.

"Hey!" I grab her hand. "How about this?" I stick her hand into my pocket along with mine. Her hand really is freezing. Oops.

"Better."

She leads me to her car. We have to let go of our hands again. I think I really like her hand. And it makes me wonder—if I like touching her hand this much, then—nope, not gonna go there. Not yet anyway.

We clamber into her car. Which is also freezing.

"God dammit Holly, crank that heater up."

"A little demanding aren't we?" She smiles as she reaches for the heater knob.

"Shut up." I slump down in the car seat. "Just take me home."

We drive in silence. And I don't mind at all. There's a lot of things that I don't mind at all about being with Holly. Which is strange, because I usually mind a LOT of things about everybody, whether it be their breathing, their smell, or the way they talk. But I don't think Holly's popped up on that radar yet.

She drives with one hand. Her left hand, I note, as I glance over. Her right hand is completely free. It's just lying there. Before I know it, I'm reaching for it again. I can't help it. I take her hand and bring it onto my lap. And I stare at our hands together. Holly doesn't resist at all. In fact, I don't think she reacted at all. Except maybe a slight twitch in her mouth. That mouth thing she does.

I link my fingers through hers. I've always felt like there were different levels of hand holding. It's one thing to just be holding hands with palm to palm, but no fingers entwined. That's like friendly level. Then there's the linked fingers. That's a whole other level. It's intimate. It's like telling the other person that you are okay with letting them through your barriers.

I barely even let Chris or Nick hold my hand, if at all. It seems completely unnecessary. I mean, if my hands are cold, I can just stick them in my own pocket. And who KNOWS where other people's hands have been. All the germs that could exist on somebody else's hand because you KNOW that rarely anybody washes their hands the right way—you know, for a full twenty seconds with soap and warm water. Even if I knew their hands were clean, their hands were always rough. It always made me feel smaller than I actually am. It's nice to feel protected. But with Holly, I feel equal. I feel that we are one and the same.

Especially with her being a doctor, she would definitely wash her hands the right way. She has to because of all the forensic work she does. And even if she didn't, I mused, I don't think I would REALLY mind that much. I might carry a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer for backup though.

We pull up at the curb of the apartment.

"Well…" Holly starts, "here we are."

"Yup." I say, not making a move to get out of the car. I'm still looking at our hands together. I think I may have a new obsession.

"Gail."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna need my hand back at some point. These are really important hands you know. They save people on a daily basis." I can practically just hear her mouth turning up on one side.

"Fine." I throw her hand back. "Who wants your hand anyway?" I'm half joking, but it still kinda hurts. I make a move to unlock the door.

"Gail."

"Holly."

"You need rest. And I'm not about to get in the way of that. You call me tomorrow and we'll meet up. That's not an option, by the way. You call me, or I'll break your legs."

"Break my legs? I never took you to be a violent person. I called you tonight. What makes you think I wouldn't call again?"

"Because you're a cat." And I know she's got a point. I want to run. But I don't. I like her hand. I should tell her.

"But I like your hand." And I immediately realize how she could interpret that wrongly.

"Well, it'll be here waiting to pick up your phone call tomorrow," she replies gently. Just kidding. Maybe her mind isn't in the gutter like mine is.

I finally look up at Holly. She's waiting for me to say something.

"Deal." I climb out of the car and don't look back.

She doesn't drive off until I actually open the apartment door. It's dark inside. I guess Chris and Dov are in their own rooms. I don't think anybody is in the mood to apartment socialize tonight. I head straight to mine without turning on any lights. I enter my room and feel along the wall for the light switch.

I don't want to think anymore. I don't want to worry anymore about Swarek or Chloe. As much of a negative person I may seem, I actually don't want to be focusing on the negative all the time. And right now, I'm not going to. Instead, I'm going to think about the one person who makes me want to run and stay all at the same time.

It's not like the thought of being with a woman never crossed my mind. Men are such dirty creatures sometimes it makes me want to try something else. Besides, why can't we just love whoever we want to, whoever happens to come along, regardless of what parts they may have in their pants?

When Holly kissed me at the wedding, I couldn't think of anything to say in response. Her lips tasted sweet. After my mind finally cleared itself of the fog, my first thought was: it was too short. Way too short.

After that, when Oliver asked me to take the lab report to forensics after Christian's kidnapping, I jumped at the opportunity. I swallowed my excitement and simply nodded.

At the time, I couldn't wait to see Holly. She was exciting and new. But at the same time, I was scared. But I didn't care. I just wanted to see her again. Walking into the lab, every step seemed too fast. And suddenly I wondered if it would seem strange that out of all the officers, I was the one who was sent to the lab. But all those thoughts went straight out my head as soon as I saw her. She made my heart expand at the same time she made my heart tighten.

Then I had to grab her and kiss her in the interrogation room. Seeing her all flustered made me realize that she might care about me more than she had let on. And of course it didn't help that she didn't really understand what a police officer's job entails. She just kept talking and I couldn't handle all the words. I might have a lot of words in my own brain, but I can't stand it when other people just blabber on and on. So I kissed her to shut her up. And because I wanted to see what it would be like. And because I felt cheated by the coatroom kiss.

I'm not having a gay panic attack. I know that won't happen. I told the truth to the therapist when I told her I wasn't switching teams. I'm on my own team, and we play for both sides, I decide. And it just so happens that Holly's on the other side that I haven't tried playing for before.

I finish getting ready for bed and climb under the blankets. I feel guilty. Here I am lying in my own bed, under my warm blankets, while two officers are in the hospital, unconscious. But there's nothing I can do for them, right? I can't think and make them better with healing powers.

In some cheesy way though, I think Holly heals me. I snort aloud at the thought. It's like a constant battle sometimes, in my head. I want to be normal and be able to express my feelings, but sometimes it's hard to even express my feelings to myself. I think I have to be able to do that first before I can even begin to have a healthy relationship with anybody.

But it is true. I think she does. She's the type of person who takes your cares and helps you carry them. She won't complain. And she's the type to make you laugh. And she'll make you try new things that you don't want to, just to make fun of you. And she's the type to poke right back at you when you snarl.

No more for tonight. It's been a long day. I turn over on my back and look up to the darkness. Lifting my hands up above my face, I link them together. They're equal, of course. I like that idea. Being equals. Being the same.

* * *

The alarm blares and I jolt awake. I roll over and hit a button on the alarm clock next to me. Immediately, I realize it's the next day. Which means I can call Holly now. Or rather, that I'm _supposed_ to call Holly. Per her orders, of course.

I blindly reach for my phone on the dresser without getting out of bed. Scrolling down the contacts list, I find Holly's name and hit the screen with my thumb.

Ring.

Ring.

"Hello?"

* * *

A/N: Eh, don't know if I want to continue, what do you guys think?


	2. Chapter 2

Her hello is groggy. I've definitely just woken her up.

"Well, sorry for waking you, your majesty."

"Gail, when I meant call me, I meant call me at a _reasonable_ hour."

"What time did you go to sleep last night? It's already—" I look at the alarm clock, which shows the time as 6:01 a.m. "—6 a.m. Oops."

I forget that I have an earlier shift today, so my alarm goes off at 6 a.m.

"Yeah, 6 a.m. Just FYI, forensic pathologists don't have crack of dawn shifts like cops do, okay?" I hear her shuffling around in her sheets. I instantly picture her in bed. I wonder what she wears to sleep? Flannels?

I push the thought out of my mind. "Hey, listen, do you want to grab a coffee in a bit?" I think I have the time. All I know is that I want to see her before I start shift. More specifically, I need her hand, actually.

"God, I must be crazy. Sure. Give me an hour."

"Holly. I said 'a bit'. I don't have that long. I'm due on shift in an hour. How long do you need to get ready anyway? You _seriously_ need a whole hour?"

"Well, I don't want to look like a mess. I don't think we're at that stage yet."

She may be right, but I could care less. Seriously. She could probably show up with the worst bed hair in the world, and some kiddy pajamas and I probably wouldn't even notice.

"Don't care. Meet me at the coffee cart by 15 Division in half an hour or I'll break _your_ legs." I hang up. I don't want to give her a chance to say no. And then I realize that I have to be there in half an hour too. I can get ready by then. But I'll need a ride. I get dressed and ready to go.

I bang on Chris's bedroom door and drag him out of bed. He's still half asleep, but agrees to drop me off at the coffee cart first and then head back to the apartment to really get ready for shift.

"Hurry up," I mutter impatiently as we leave the apartment.

"Gail, you can't expect me to drive like a speedster right now okay? You literally dragged me from my bed like 2 seconds ago. Why do you have to meet with her so early anyway?"

I ignore him.

We pull up next to the coffee cart. I see a familiar figure whose back is to the street. Damn it. She beat me! How did she beat me?

I thank Chris and hop out of the truck with my bag.

"Hey!"

Holly whips around, holding two steaming cups already in her hand. She beams at me. How does she look perfect? No, seriously. Not a hair out of place. And her outfit is perfect—it matches and everything. I like her scarf. It's colorful, but not obnoxiously so.

"Hey. Here." She hands me one of the cups and I grab it eagerly. It's still freezing and I'm glad for the extra warmth.

We start walking together to the nearest bench. I like this area. It's right on the edge of a public park. The bench faces the inside of the park, and I see several people doing their morning jogs with their dogs or babies, their breaths coming out as puffs in the frigid air. Why do people exercise?

"How did you beat me here? I thought you needed an hour of primping before you could step out your door." I sit down on the bench and Holly sits down to my left.

She leans back against the bench.

"Well, I live right there," she gestures to a building down the street. "Doesn't take long to travel here, you know?"

I didn't know she lived so close to 15. That could come in use.

"Oh."

"Yup." Holly uncaps her coffee and blows on it gently. "So…" She turns her body to me. "How was your night?"

I shrug and look straight ahead. "It was fine. Quiet. I just slept."

"Sounds perfect. You were able to sleep though?"

"Yup."

You know, come to think of it, I don't think Holly and I really have the wordiest conversations. But all I know is that I'm totally fine with that.

I sip on my coffee and lean back, stretching my legs out. There's something about the cold air in the morning. Yeah, it's cold, but it's fresh in the morning. I breathe it in, close my eyes, and hang my head back. I'm holding my coffee cup in my right hand. My left hand is cold. And I know the perfect solution. But before I can even open my eyes or make a move, I feel a sudden warmth in my left hand. And I realize Holly has grabbed it on her own. Geezus, is she a mind reader too? I smile with my eyes closed.

We talk a little about the people we see jogging, but other than that, don't really touch on anything too heavy, which is totally fine with me. She makes me laugh. That's what I need right now. As soon as I walk into the station, the heavy burdens will come crashing down on my shoulders again. But right now, the combination of the fresh air, Holly's warm hand, and her conversation makes me feel as light as air.

Before I know it, it's five minutes before shift. I stand up and drop her hand.

"I gotta go."

She stands up too, throwing her cup away in the trash can next to us.

"Okay. Are you gonna be okay today?"

I reach down to grab my bag. "Yeah. I have to be. I have a job to do."

"That doesn't mean you _have_ to be okay, Gail." She frowns and adjusts her glasses.

"Yeah. It does." These words sound familiar.

"Fine. But if you ever need to talk…" Holly shoves her hands into her pockets and looks down at her feet.

"I know. Thanks." I hoist my bag over my shoulder. I really have to go. Frank's gonna kill me if I'm late today of all days.

"Okay then. As long as you know."

Suddenly, I realize that I'm not sure how to say bye. Do I hug her? Do I kiss her? How about a handshake? I've never done this before. But again, before I can make a move, Holly steps closer to me. My natural instinct is to back away. I usually don't like people standing so close to me. I have a personal bubble space. I fight the urge to take a step back and hold my breath in.

"Okay, bye." Holly leans in and kisses me. Just a quick one. Even shorter than the coatroom kiss. But just like that time, my head is all of a sudden completely empty again. I'm paralyzed. This woman is constantly shuffling my cards. I blink and I realize she's already walking away, towards her own building. I touch my lips. They're cold, just like hers were when they touched mine. I breathe out slowly and watch the puff dissipate.

* * *

Parade is solemn. Frank tells us there's no update on Swarek. He's still unconscious. As for Price, her husband is still refusing to let her have the surgery. As Frank talks about Price, I'm pretty sure I can see his veins popping out of his neck and I remember that she's his goddaughter. I can't imagine what he's going through. But he has to keep it together for all of us. Even with three officers in the hospital, we still have a job to do.

The day passes slowly. It's like the city knows what 15 is going through. I'm partnered with Chris, which is perfect, because we don't need to make small talk. He doesn't mention this morning and I don't bring it up either. We're both in our own worlds, responding to radio calls automatically and efficiently.

The next couple days pass in the same way. Holly and I continue the morning coffee talks. Each time, she leaves me with a quick peck on the lips. We also start a pattern of talking every night on the phone. But nothing else. No dates. No confessions of love. I think we're in that grey area when you're with another person and you both obviously have feelings for each other but nobody seems to want to make a move. Limbo.

I don't know if we're dating. Or would the correct term be "seeing somebody"? All I know is that we have an unspoken pact to talk every day. There are friends that you catch up with every now and then, but you don't tell them every detail of your mundane life. But we talk about everything. I tell her about the calls we get, about the meals I ate. Is that friendship or dating? Maybe there's no term for it. Maybe I shouldn't try to label it.

I'm happy though, I think. Half of me thinks it's paradoxical. How can I be happy with everything that's happening? The thing is…I think she makes that possible. If she weren't here, I think I would be weighed down with everything going on. She rescues me from my own thoughts and own burdens. I need her as much as I need the air. Her solidity becomes an essential part of my routine day-to-day.

Holding her hand becomes a daily routine too. Every morning, we get our coffee and she holds my hand and I hold hers. It's my anchor. Sometimes I feel so light when I'm with her that I feel like her hand is the only thing anchoring me down to the ground.

She listens to me. She might not understand a lot about what we do, but she listens. And that's more than enough. Sometimes I don't have a lot to say, but then she just listens to my silence. I listen to her words. I slowly get used to her words. A lot of the time, she makes me listen to her talk about her medical jurisprudence when we talk at night in bed. But I listen gladly. It puts me to sleep when I can't sleep.

When we talk, it makes me wonder how I ever lived my life without her. How does anybody live their life without a Holly? A Holly to start the day and a Holly to end the day. It's another new obsession.

* * *

A/N: Oops. I guess I decided to continue anyway. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

"Gail."

A voice coming from my left makes me turn my head. Chris places his beer on the counter and takes a seat on the stool next to me.

"What, Chris?" I turn my gaze back to the counter. It's been a long work week and I just want to drink. I've already had three shots, I think. Now I'm just washing everything down with a beer.

He hesitates, then takes a breath before blurting out, "What's going on with you and Holly?"

My heartrate immediately quickens and I remind myself to take a deep breath before responding. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I hear you and her talking on the phone every night in your room. You make me drive you to the coffee cart thirty minutes before shift starts every morning so you can meet with her. What's going on?"

I take a long drink from my beer. Chris is calling me out again. Why does he always have to do this? Why does he have to make me talk about "my feelings"?

"Gail, you can't avoid talking about this stuff forever."

"Shut up Chris." Yes I can. I can bottle these feelings in. That's what being a Peck means. You swallow your own feelings about anything and just do your job. I've been doing it for the past 20 plus years. Who's to say I can't do it for the next 50 or 60 years?

"Gail. Come on. You don't think I know what's going on? Listen, I know we dated, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be some crazy psycho ex who doesn't care about you. I still know you and we're still friends. And because we're friends that's exactly why I'm pushing you on this."

Damn it. I know he's right. He pushed me the first time to call Holly all those nights ago when we were hunting for Ford. I reach for my beer bottle again and feel the coldness against my palm. It's the total opposite feeling of Holly's hand in mine.

We both fall silent. I don't want to talk about this. I don't. I like keeping Holly to myself. It's my secret, and my secret alone.

"It's okay Chris. I can figure it out."

"Maybe there's nothing to figure it out. Gail, if you're scared about coming out—"

I interrupt him coldly. "Chris, I'm not scared of coming out. That's not what this is about. It's about just being with somebody and playing it by ear. I don't give a damn that Holly's a woman. I really don't."

That shuts him up. And now I understand why he wants to talk about Holly to me. He's afraid that I'm scared of my sexuality. Whatever. I could care less about all this sexuality business. And everybody else should think the same way. I'm not scared about it.

No, I'm not scared about that at all. I'm scared of being hurt again. I'm scared of being left behind. I'm scared of committing my emotions and having the person leave them in the cold and driving over them without looking back.

I'm scared of messing this one up. I'm scared that I'm going to run away screaming first so I can't get hurt. After Nick left me for Andy, I closed the relationship door, locked it, and threw the key in the deepest ocean.

Chris is undeterred after a moment of silence. "Fine. Fine, if that's not what this is about, you still need to set things straight with her. What if somebody else comes into her life and because you guys never defined your relationship, she leaves? Would you want that?"

Damn it, Chris needs to stop calling me on my shit.

"Okay Chris, I got it. Geez." I call the bartender over and order two more shots. I hand one to Chris and command him to drink with me. Drinking is always a good way to get Chris to shut up. We drink and I feel the harshness of the alcohol in the back of my throat.

I slide off the stool and leave money for the drinks. "I'm done for the night. I'm gonna head out. I need a walk."

"Okay fine Gail. But you really can't avoid this forever." He calls after me as I walk away from him. Oh please, I could avoid it for a hundred years if I really put my mind to it. I'm the master of waiting things out. I can be stubborn as hell when I want.

I push the door open and shiver as the cold air hits my face. I zip my jacket all the way up and start a brisk walk down the street, away from the Penny.

It's been three weeks since the night in the hospital waiting room. Swarek's been awake for the past week. Price is awake too, but she's still in critical condition.

Holly and I still talk every night. You would think with all the time we spend talking that we would end up running out of things to talk about. But that never happens. She's an intellectual creature, that Holly. She teaches me about her field and so much more. I learn about philosophy and I learn about history. She talks about Socrates one night and Marco Polo the next. I wonder how she has so much knowledge in that brain of hers. Maybe she's reading from an encyclopedia during our phone conversations. It's kind of inspiring, in an endearing way. I don't think I've ever had any kind of relationship or friendship where this many words were exchanged.

Chris has a point though. I don't want my stubbornness to bite me in the ass. I like Holly. And even though she's never said it out loud, I think she likes me back too.

I walk without a specific destination in mind. Of course, when I finally stop walking, I'm in front of Holly's apartment door. I think I may be more drunk now than before I left the Penny. Damn that last shot. I don't think I would have walked here if I were completely sober. I cough and gather my courage. Right now, I literally have no words in mind. But my hand raises of its own accord and knocks raptly on her front door.

"Gail?"

I blink and sway and I realize Holly has opened the door.

"Hey," I grin sheepishly and give a lame wave. She looks really comfy in a giant sweatshirt and sweatpants. She looks like a blanket that I just want to wrap myself with.

Holly looks amused and leans against her doorframe. "What's up? This is an unexpected visit."

"Hey."

She smirks. "You've said that already."

Oh. This time I really forgot.

"I was at the Penny. You weren't there." I try to explain myself to her. And to myself too, I think.

"Yes, I know," Holly keeps smiling and adjusts her glasses. I like it when she does that. "I was here, reading."

"I think I have an obsession with you," I blurt it out before my brain can stop it. Gail Peck, you're an idiot. You just showed your entire hand to the other party. You're not supposed to do that until the end of the game.

Holly crosses her arms and tilts her head. "Not…like in a creepy way right?"

"No!" I gasp exaggeratedly.

"Okay then. That's totally fine with me. I like being the object of somebody's non-creepy obsession."

I look down at my feet and shuffle them. Isn't this the part where she's supposed to say something back? Except she's saying nothing at all. All of a sudden, I'm very aware of how idiotic I must seem. She probably knew from the start of this visit how idiotic I'm acting. This was a complete fool's errand.

"That's it, I guess. See ya." I turn around quickly and almost stumble into the wall. Smooth. Very smooth, Officer Peck. Mistake #1: Showing up at Holly's door half drunk. Mistake #2: Telling said Holly that I have an obsession with her. Mistake #3: Acting like a drunkard while trying to make a quick exit.

I hear her laugh and step out from her doorway. "Gail."

"Yeah?" I bite my lip but I don't turn around. I need to gather my dignity.

"Come in for a bit, okay?" Her voice is gentle and inviting.

"Okay, I guess I could stay for a bit," I try to pass it off nonchalantly. I'm not sure I could make it back home anyway right now. I turn around and see her standing in the hallway, still smiling.

"Yeah, I know how busy you officers are. Thanks for taking the time for coming all the way out here," She's joking, I think. I can't really tell in my drunken stupor. I think the alcohol is really starting to get to me now. I follow her into the apartment.

It's warm and cozy. It's not giant, but it's comfortable. Just like her. Holly walks into her kitchen but points to a couch in the living area.

"Sit."

Normally, after that sentence, I would have said something along the lines of "I'm not a dog," but I really do want to sit on that couch. I'm not sure how much longer my legs are gonna hold up.

I collapse onto the couch and groan. I'm never getting up from this couch. How can a couch be this comfortable? I curl up in the corner and cross my legs under me. I look around and see Holly reaching into her kitchen cabinet for mugs. She prepares two cups of tea and brings them over to the couch. She sits next to me and is about to hand one to me when she suddenly withdraws the cup.

"What?" I demand.

"Are you sober enough to be holding one of my mugs? You can't drop it okay? I really like this one." She frowns and scrutinizes me closely.

"Come on, Holly, I walked here. I'm fine. Just give me the damn mug. What's so special about it anyway?"

She hands me the mug almost reluctantly so I can take a closer look at it. It's just a mug with a portrait of some dude with fancy clothes and white hair.

"I got it as a gift."

"A mug with a picture of some guy with white hair?"

"FYI, that's Mozart. My…friend got it for me when she travelled to Austria."

"Oh. I didn't know you're into classical music too." I sip from the old white guy mug and am pleasantly soothed by the tea. I shouldn't even be surprised, actually, that Holly is into classical music. She's into philosophy and history. All the typical old people boring stuff. At least, that's how I used to see it. Now I guess I find it a _little_ more interesting. Or maybe it's just because the source of the information is a lot more interesting than my professors and teachers in school.

"Yup." She sips from her mug, which has a similar guy with fancy clothes and white hair, except his hair is a lot crazier.

"Is that Mozart too?" I point to her mug.

"No, this is Beethoven."

"How can you even tell? They almost look exactly the same," I protest.

"I can tell," she turns her head to me and smiles knowingly.

"Fine." She can tell, Miss Encyclopedia over here. I decide to drop the subject. And go back to the one I started in her doorway. I need to know. Damn Chris and him introducing doubt into the back of my mind.

"Holly."

"Gail." I can sense slight bemusement in her tone.

"I'm trying to be serious here." I rotate my body so I'm facing her completely. I need to face her and face this head on.

"Yeah, I can see that. You being drunk and everything, you must be really serious right now." Holly leans back against her couch and puts her feet up the coffee table in front. And I notice she's wearing slippers for the first time. She's wearing bunny slippers to be specific. What is up with her? No, back to the subject. Stop getting distracted, Gail.

"Shut up. Okay, look, this thing we have…" God, I sound like some desperate needy woman, like in those dumb sitcoms that Dov sometimes puts on the TV.

"Yeah?"

"You're really gonna make me say the whole thing?" She's torturing me on purpose, I swear.

"Well, I'm not a mind reader, Gail. You're gonna have to finish your sentence if you want me to know what you're talking about," she explains patiently.

I almost snort in response. Not a mind reader? There have been so many times in the past couple weeks I would have bet all the money in my bank that she was a mind reader. I slap the couch in half frustration.

Holly turns to me and I think she realizes that I'm really struggling to get my words out.

"Gail. It's okay. I'm patient." I'm not sure if she's referring to me finishing my sentence or about my ability, or rather, my inability to have a relationship right now. Maybe she's talking about both.

"Look," I look down at the couch and start off slowly, trying to organize the words in my half-drunken mind. "I like the way you make me feel. I like the way you talk. I like how you teach me things. I like how you listen to me. I like how you joke with me. And I don't know what this is. And if there's a term for our relationship…and…yeah." I finish half-heartedly and look up.

She's grinning. Seriously? She's grinning right now while I feel like I've just emotionally vomited on her?

"Why are you grinning?" I almost want to run out the door in embarrassment. Except I don't think I can run or move right now. This couch and tea are way too soothing.

"Gail, I know all those things already."

I knew it. I knew she was a mind reader.

"You lied," I accused her. "you're a total mind reader."

She takes another sip from her mug and shrugs. "Nope, I'm not reading your mind. I'm just reading your actions."

"It's not fair," I proclaim. "How come you know everything?"

She grins and shrugs again. "Maybe because I'm a doctor? We hold a lot of information in our brains you know." She taps her head.

"But aren't you supposed to say something about me too?" God, why do I keep pushing? I hate it when people push at me, but here I am pushing at Holly. It's the alcohol, it's got to be the alcohol.

Holly sighs and finally turns to me. "I do want to say something about you too. I just…I wasn't sure if you can do this." For the first time tonight, I sense a hint of doubt and uncertainty in her voice.

"I just needed to hear you say it first," she continues. "I don't want to give you a reason to run, Gail. I really don't want you to run away from me." She seems like she wants to say even more, but she stops there.

"I won't," I promise. And I immediately realize that I've just made a half drunken promise that I'm not sure I can keep. "I mean…I'll try. I'll really try."

"Okay." Holly reaches for my hand. "I think I can live with that."

I smile like the drunken idiot I feel like right now. The moment her hand touches mine, my other drunken revelations disappeared in my brain's abyss, and all I can think about is the warmth radiating from her hand.

"So what exactly do you mean you have an obsession with me?"

* * *

A/N: So I guess I went from not sure if I wanted to just do a one shot to committing to a full-fledged multi-chapter story. I swear I didn't have these chapters planned when I first started. Thanks for joining along the ride. I guess this is to be continued! Any reviews are always greatly appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Just ask her. Come on, you know you want to.

Shut up. I continue fidgeting with my coffee cup lid.

"…and then the blood results finally came back…"

You face dangerous criminals on a daily basis and you can't spit a simple question out? Stop acting like a prepubescent teenage boy.

"…and after that I sprouted antlers from the top of my head."

Huh? Antlers?

"What?" I jerk out of my daze and pay the consequence when blazing hot coffee spills onto my pants. I'm not in my uniform pants, which are way thicker than the jeans I have on, whiiiich means the coffee hurts.

I swear and jump off the bench Holly and I are sitting on. Holly mimics my motion, albeit slowly, so she doesn't spill her own coffee. She pulls some napkins from her coat pocket and hands them to me calmly.

"You good?" Geez, is this woman unfazed by nothing? I take that back. I think the only time I've ever seen her completely lose it was when we were hunting Ford.

"Yeah," I mutter, dabbing at the coffee stain that's now spreading on my jeans. "Was I losing my mind or did you say you sprouted antlers?"

Holly snickers. "Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. You were spacing out on me!"

"No I wasn't," I defend myself insistently.

"Gail." Holly sits back down, crosses her legs, and looks at me over the top of her glasses sternly. Damn. She could make a really good strict teacher. Any kid facing down that stare would sit down, shut up, and write a 20 page essay. "Just say whatever it is you've been wanting to say for the past ten minutes."

See? I knew it. Total mind reader. I add another piece of evidence to the "Holly is a mind reader" theory.

I toss the napkins into the trashcan and spin abruptly on my heel to end up standing right in front of Holly. My insides start twisting in a bunch. Never in my life would I have thought a question would be this hard to ask.

"Do you—do you wanna do me?" and I choke on my words as my brain processes the sentence I just asked.

A semi-shocked and amused expression shows on her face. She tilts her head and opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, I jump in again.

"I mean, I mean that is, do you want to do something with me?" Nope, still not what I was trying to say.

Holly smirks. "Could you be a little more specific please?"

I hate her. I really hate her right now. She knows exactly what I'm trying to ask but she makes me ask anyway.

"Okay, do you want to try doing…something else besides coffee? With me? Not that, you know, I'm not enjoying our coffee talks. It's the complete opposite actually. I just thought we should maybe try something else? Not should, I mean, could? Maybe we could try something else? I don't know, whatever you want—" oh my god, I've turned into a blubbering worried Holly. She's rubbing off on me!

Holly straight up laughs out loud. Really loudly. I'm kind of indignant that she's laughing when I once again feel like I've vomited all over her. After she gets her laughter under control, she reaches out to my hand and pulls me to a sitting position next to her.

"Gail," she continues, pulling my hand into her lap. I guess we both rub off on each other. "Thanks for trying." She starts running her thumb in circles over the back of my hand. It's the most cliché move in the book but it's the best feeling ever, especially when said thumb belongs to Holly.

"Yeah, I tried," I pouted, feeling like a child who just showed her mother a (crappy) drawing that she did in art class.

"Thanks," she says again thoughtfully. "And yes. We can try something else. How do you feel about ice hockey?"

If she wasn't holding onto my hand, I probably would have jumped up out of my seat again. But once her hand is in mine, I might as well be superglued to her.

"Please tell me you are joking," I whine, stamping my feet several times. "God, I could barely handle the batting cages, what makes you think I'm gonna be better at something when I don't even have my feet on solid ground? And something that requires entire body movement?"

She laughs again and I'm glad to hear her laugh this time, because this time it was on purpose.

"Yes, I'm joking Gail. Don't worry. After seeing you at the batting cages, I think it's safe to say you're not the sport-y type."

"I told you that from the beginning. If you only just listened to me from the start, I wouldn't have had to make a fool of myself in front of you." I huff because I relive that super embarrassing moment when I chucked the bat away.

"Well, it was fun at least right?"

I refuse to give in.

"Nope. Not at all." I lie my butt off while shaking my head furiously and bury my chin into my coat.

"It's okay Gail, I know the truth." Her voice is light-hearted and I know she can see right through my words.

Stop knowing everything!

"How about….mini-golf?" She ponders the question out loud. "It's not that sport-y. And there's no safety gear required. And no objects flying at your face at 100 mph. I think it's a good beginner activity for you."

I wrinkle my nose. "Mini-golf? Isn't that for like…you know, kids?" It is, isn't it? I'm pretty sure I can imagine a bunch of screaming children running around hitting each other with golf clubs. That part sounds kind of dangerous, actually.

"There's no law that says adults can't play mini-golf too, you know," she answers the question matter-of-factly.

"I'll have to check my schedule. I'm actually a pretty busy police officer."

Holly snorts and jams my shoulder with her own. That actually hurt. She might make a really good ice hockey player and a teacher. Look at all the careers she could've had if she didn't choose to be a forensic pathologist.

"Okay, Officer Peck. You check your calendar and you let me know once you find some time."

I hum in agreement.

After that we fall into silence—not an uncomfortable silence. Just the type of silence when there's nothing to say and nothing more to ask. It's a silence that doesn't feel empty and doesn't need to be filled. It doesn't need to be explained and it doesn't need to be told to go away.

I'm pretty sure I only have a couple more minutes to spare before shift starts but I would give up the best alcohol in the world (maybe only for a night or two) to just stay on this bench a little longer. I sigh and I squeeze Holly's hand as if that would buy me more time. She squeezes back and tilts her head over until it's resting on my shoulder. I don't think I've ever been the shoulder to lean on in relationships. But apparently I am the shoulder in this relationship. Which is a strange thought, if you really think about it. I'm hardly the emotionally stable one. I'm like the Chihuahua in relationships. One little noise and I jump in the air and run.

But strangely enough, no events so far has made me want to jump and run. Yet. I'm still holding my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But maybe that shoe will stay on.

I check the watch on my left hand and groan. I really have to go or else Frank will have my head. Holly senses the time and lifts her head up.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "Time to go."

"So how about tonight, then? Mini-golf?" Holly lets go of my hand and stands up, stretching.

I stand up slowly to join her. "Uhhhhh…" I'm still really hesitant about this. I seriously don't do the physical activity thing. Last time was embarrassing enough.

"Oh come on. It's not like I'm asking you to analyze some DNA strands for me. We could do that too, if you wanted. I would be totally fine with some DNA analysis."

"Sure. Right after I take you to a shooting range and see how well you do with a gun," I shoot back at her.

"Trust me, you don't want to see what I can do with a gun. I wouldn't want you to feel bad about yourself," Holly replies, and she winks at me.

You're kidding me, right? She knows how to use a gun too? It's really not fair.

"Fine," I moan. "But then we have to do something after that where I can't embarrass myself publicly."

"Are you sure this activity exists?"

"Shut up." I glance at my watch again. Okay, I'm officially going to be late.

Suddenly, I feel Holly's hand around my arm. I look up, about to question her, when she pulls me to her and her lips crash into mine, hard. I can feel her glasses against my face, but I really don't care. And I forget about the time, and where we are. I forget that I'm already late for parade. My arms automatically move to wrap around her waist and bring her closer, right up against me, until we're molded together. Though we're both wearing thick layers, I can feel the warmth from her body and it makes me feverish. She keeps kissing me and I kiss her back just as hard like we have all the time in the world.

But we don't. And she knows we don't, so she finally lets me go. And I unwrap my arms from her body and step back. It's a good thing she has the self-control that I don't.

"Where—" my voice is hoarse, so I clear my throat and try again. "Where did that come from?"

Holly looks up at me and smiles proudly. "Just a little pre-reward for agreeing to tonight."

I clear my throat nervously again and cough. Focus.

"I'll, uh..I'll call you after shift," I promise.

"You better," she warns. "Or else, you know what happens."

"I know. You'll break my legs." I nod solemnly.

"You got it. See you after work."

She turns away and starts walking back to her apartment building. Apparently forensic pathologists don't work too many hours a day if no emergencies come up. I don't even think she needs to show up to work for another hour or so. And even then, she gets off earlier than I do. Maybe I should have been a forensic pathologist. Yeah, sure, Gail. Remember, your last name? The one that requires you to be in law enforcement?

I shake my head to clear it and take off running to the station. Even though I'm late, I'm still replaying that kiss in my mind. Slow-motion this time. Holly can really kiss. Like, really _really_ kiss. I can still feel everything tingling from my lips to my toes.

I like the tingling feeling. I think I've found Obsession #3.

* * *

A/N: I know nothing really happened in this chapter, but I just wanted to get this out for you guys. I think this story is gonna be about the slow burrrrrrn of our beautiful ship. So thanks again for joining the ride!


	5. Chapter 5

As expected, Frank assigns me to front desk duty because I was so very late to parade. Not that I mind. Desk duty really isn't that bad of a punishment. Especially when the reason I was late gives me tingly feelings.

And so I have to spend the day helping any and all citizens who come through our door. It's been pretty slow today, only a couple people coming through to report a missing dog, a robbery while the owners were on vacation, and some kids who found a lost backpack on the streets and wanted to turn it in. With only an hour remaining on my shift, I sit there, spinning around in my swivel chair.

Spin.

Spinning.

Too much spinning.

I stop spinning because my head starts to feel woozy and I turn to the front desk to see the shaky outline of somebody leaning over the counter. I clear my throat and try to stop the world around me from shaking. Within a couple seconds, the world rights itself and my vision focuses to an elderly looking gentleman.

I stand up and smile professionally at him, as if he hadn't just caught me screwing around on duty. He's dressed rather homely, and I would have found him adorable if I hadn't caught the smell of canned peas and mothballs coming from him. I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose.

"Yes, sir? Is there something I can help you with?"

Upon closer inspection, I realize the man is extremely agitated, waving his hands around. He opens his mouth and starts to stutter, "My—my—w-w—"

"Sir, just take a deep breath okay? Can you tell me what it is that happened?"

The man opens his mouth, but this time nothing comes out. He starts to pace back and forth in front of the counter. Oooookay, he's worked up about something. I come out from behind the counter and take him by the arm.

"Sir, just come with me and let's find you a seat until you can tell me what happened." I lead him into the station, but he's still fluttering his hands and stuttering words, none of which are intelligible.

I lead him into one of our waiting rooms and sit him on the couch. I sit on the desk in the room and I wait.

"My wife…" he finally manages to choke out. "She's missing. I—I can't find her anywhere. I just got home this afternoon from visiting my grandchildren for the past couple days. She didn't go because she said she wanted some quiet around the house. You have to help me find her, please! I shouldn't have-"

Apparently that's all he manages to get out, because the man starts sobbing desperately into his hands. I feel a stab of pain as I try to imagine what he's going through.

"Sir, it's okay. Let's just start with your name okay? Can you do that?"

The man nods slowly and gulps. His name is Dave. Dave Hall.

"Okay, Mr. Hall, and what's your wife's name?" I jump off the desk and search around for a missing persons report form.

"Melissa."

I go through the form with Dave, asking him the usual questions—when he last saw her, when he last spoke to her, anybody who would want to hurt her, her behavior recently. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, honestly. He tells me the house was perfectly intact when he got back and that he tried calling her cell phone continuously, but there was no answer.

I tell him that that's okay, that's a good sign. At least the phone is ringing, so that means we can track it. I call Traci, who hasn't gone out yet on any cases this morning. While we wait for her, I ask him a question that's been on my mind.

"Mr. Hall, how long have you and your wife been married?"

"Forty two years…" he replies. His voice is almost a whisper. "I don't know what I would do without her. I need her. I need her so much."

Traci enters the room and I brief her on the information that Dave provided me. Afterwards, I pull her outside away from Dave, who has managed to get his tears under his control. We watch him through the window. He's the ultimate picture of brokenness. The picture of defeat.

"Traci, we have to find her. Look at him. It's killing him."

She nods. "We'll find her. Give me her cell phone and I'll get somebody to ping it, and see if we can get a location off of it."

I hand the form to her and she takes off running towards the detective's station. I go back into the room to stay with Dave, who's now just sitting with his head in his hands, looking down on the ground. I'm not entirely sure how to comfort him. Patting him on the back seems a little patronizing, and I'm afraid that I might not say the right words. Instead, I offer to get him a cup of tea.

He nods without saying anything, and I excuse myself to grab the tea. After handing him the cup of tea, I explain to him what Traci's trying to do and that there's nothing we can do right now but wait. It seems like Dave has no more words left, so he just keeps nodding and doesn't look up at all.

I sigh and sit down in a chair next to him. These are hard. You always want to try to say the right things, but sometimes no matter what you say, they'll just end up blaming you. So I say nothing. And I hope that Traci gets a location. I hope for Dave's sake, because judging by the way he's falling apart right now, he won't be able to survive without her.

After 30 minutes, Traci knocks and pokes her head in the room. Dave doesn't even look up. She motions for me to come outside.

"Gail. We got a location. I just sent a squad over to check it out. The cell phone was nearby, maybe 10 minutes away from where we are. We'll know soon if it checks out."

Oh, thank god. I nod furiously. "Okay, thanks Traci. I'll let Mr. Hall know. Keep me updated."

Traci nods and heads back to the detective's station. I update Dave on the situation. He finally lifts his head out of his hands. The look of hope on his face is indescribable. But even so, I need to warn him that it's just a lead, and there's nothing solid yet.

Dave nods but now he's sitting with his head upright, and his hands folded in his lap. Waiting. Waiting for any news, but hopefully good news. He doesn't move at all—he just sits and waits expectantly for Traci to return.

After another 20 minutes or so, Traci comes back in the room. There's something wrong. I can read it on her face. Before she even has a chance to say anything, I jump up and I push her outside so we can talk without Dave listening.

"What happened?" I ask, not knowing if I want to know the answer.

Traci chews on her lip. "We found her."

I want to scream and jump up and down, but I know that there's a but coming. And I hope that it's not that they've found her body.

"But?"

"Gail…she's at another man's house. The officers in the squad knocked on the door, and she answered it in a bathrobe. She…she said she wanted to leave Dave. And she didn't have the courage to do it in person. She told them she's been meaning to leave for months. Apparently she met somebody at her book club and…well, they've been seeing each other for awhile."

You're kidding me. Please tell me this is a nightmare. A sixty-something year old woman just up and left her husband without telling him? After 42 years of marriage and grandchildren? She just…left?

I'm not sure what to say in response to Traci. I don't have anything to say. No. This isn't right. This isn't how things are done. You can't just leave somebody without telling them and ask the cops to be your messengers.

I tell Traci to tell the officers to bring Melissa to our station. There's no way she's taking the coward's way out. She is going to face her husband, who's been sitting in our station completely besides himself. She was going to leave him for the rest of their lives and she didn't even have the courage to face him. And here he was feeling completely guilty about leaving her alone for a couple days. My heart's breaking for him.

Traci agrees with my plan and radioes the officers her instructions. I go back into Dave's room, slowly. I rack my brains, trying to put the situation into words.

"Mr. Hall, we found your wife. She's fine. We're having some officers bring her to the station now."

If Dave hadn't been sitting down, I think his legs would have collapsed from under him. He starts sobbing anew again, saying thank you over and over again. I try to swallow, but the lump in my throat is getting too big. He's so worked up that he doesn't even ask where she was.

All he cares about is that she's fine and that she's coming to see him.

I can't watch this. I can't watch to see this man's heart broken for a second time this morning. Except this time, nothing can put it back together. Instead, I force a smile and I tell him that we were simply doing our job.

Dave is pretty much radiating and now I'm the one who feels guilty. I just gave him the worst false hope of all time. I tell him just to sit tight and that his wife will be here soon.

His cheating wife. She's here. Traci lets her into the room, and I leave so the two of them can talk. But I watch from the window. I watch as she approaches. Her walk is cautious. She stops after a couple steps. On the other hand, Dave gets up off the couch so quickly that he's almost a blur. He hardly notices that his wife's complete body language is one that's unwelcoming.

He shuffles over to her by the door as quick as his legs allow and throws his arms around her shoulders. I can't watch this. But I can't watch anything else.

I see Melissa pull back awkwardly from the hug. Her face is akin to Dave's this morning. Dave finally notices when he looks her in the eye. His smile drops and I can see the question on his lips—what's wrong?

She shakes her head slowly. I see the words coming out, and as they come out, I see Dave's face drop. And it keeps dropping. He takes a step back from her. And then another. Melissa keeps shaking her head, but she keeps talking. I can see the words piercing Dave. It's as if she is physically hitting him. His shoulders slump and his head hangs down. He's not looking at her anymore. He is now the picture of a completely broken man with no hope.

She finally stops talking. And she leaves the room. She leaves the room with Dave standing there in the middle. She leaves him even more shattered than he was this morning. I turn my head to watch her as she exits the room.

How could you, I thought bitterly. How could you leave the man who loved you for 42 years? The man with whom you built a life together?

She must feel me looking at her because she turns her head towards my way. I put on my poker face and smile coolly at her. She shrugs and walks away from me.

She left. She left him in the room. She left their marriage.

I can hardly believe it, as I stand outside, watching Dave. Even after 42 years, she left. And Dave got crushed in the wake. She didn't even look back twice to make sure he was okay.

I take a deep breath and I try to place my emotions aside. I go back into the room and I explain to Dave that he can take as long as he needs in there. He's still standing in the middle of the room. Maybe he's too shocked to even move. I get the feeling that he's an empty shell, as if his very soul has left him.

I don't think he hears me, but I leave the room anyway, inform a nearby officer of the situation. He nods solemnly and agrees to keep an eye on Dave for me.

I head to the locker room automatically. I think my shift is over, but I'm not sure. All I can think about is Dave's face. His face when she explained to him what she was doing.

Sometimes you get cases like these. Cases that really get to you. And this one gets to me. I change automatically out of my uniform and then I sit.

I sit because I don't know what else to do.

42 years.

She left him.

Anything can happen. I thought I was broken after Nick left me. His pain must be at least 50 times worse, if pain were measurable.

People leave. No amount of time guarantees anything. No relationship is safe.

I'm not sure how long I sit there. Apparently too long after my shift ends, because I get a call on my cell phone. I glance down at the caller ID.

It's Holly. Right. I was supposed to call her. We…we were supposed to go out.

But what's the point? What's the point if even after 42 years, they can leave? What's the point of even getting to know somebody? What's the point of starting a relationship or getting married even?

Why start a story at all if it's just going to end in brokenness and loneliness?

I contemplate letting the call go to voicemail. But at the last second, I pick up.

"Hello?"

"Well, I guess I have to break your legs," Holly jokes through the phone. "I hope you've got a good excuse."

"Hey, Holly."

I guess she can tell something's wrong, because her tone changes, and she asks what's wrong.

"Nothing, just a long day, I guess," I reply. "Listen…about tonight, can I take a rain check?" I hate myself for the words that are coming out of my mouth. But I can't see any other option.

"Oh. Okay. Sure, yeah."

Through the fog, I think that Holly knows what's up. She can probably see right through my lie. She always knows. But I say nothing to make it better, because I can't handle this right now.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," I wince as the words come out, knowing that it may not be true.

"Sure, Gail. Bye." She's gone.

And I'm left in a hole by myself. But this is better. Because I choose to be in the hole. It's far better than being on the outside of a hole and being pushed in when you least expect it. At least I know why I'm in the hole.

It's my choice, I tell myself. It is.

* * *

A/N: Please don't kill me. I started writing and this just happened.

AND I would like it to be noted that I finished this chapter way ahead of time and wanted to upload it last night, but I think the server was down so I couldn't...but here it is now!


	6. Chapter 6

Silence. Loneliness.

That's all my life has been for the past 5 days. And that's the way it should be. Because that's the way it'll inevitably end anyway.

No matter what, the years and the trust that you build, it all has to end someday. Why should I put myself through the ups and downs? Won't that just make it a million times worse when it ends?

No, I think as I put on my uniform to get ready for shift, choosing to be by myself now will save me from a pain like the one I saw Dave go through.

Instead of going home after shift and talking to her on the phone like before, I've been heading to the Penny and drinking myself silly. At which point, I call Chris and demand for him to come pick me up. Which is followed by Chris demanding why I've gotten so drunk. Which is followed by me giving him the silent treatment.

I haven't called her, and she hasn't called me. And that's the way it should be.

42 years. That's one of two numbers that has been consistently in my head.

3 minutes. That's the second of the two numbers in my head. That's how long it took a 42 year relationship to end. 42 years destroyed by a 3 minute conversation.

I sit in the back during parade. I want to just focus on my job, because that's all what Pecks are about right? Since I can't have a relationship, I might as well focus on my job and on my career. I should just try to live for myself.

I try not to let myself think about my obsessions. This is what makes sense. This is what is right. I just have to tell myself enough times.

Fake it till you make it right?

I'm partnered with Oliver today. He's been back for several days now. The doctor cleared him to work and Oliver being Oliver was a typical eager beaver to get back to the streets.

Great.

He's the only other one besides _her_ who came even close to knowing what I'm thinking. I swallow and I try to put Dave's case and the lesson I've learned into a box and lock it away in the back of my mind. The last thing I need is another attempt at a father-daughter talk.

Oliver makes the usual jokes as we get into the squad car. I smile and nod when needed, but try not to say much. The jokes eventually run out, and we end up driving and patrolling a neighborhood silently.

"Peck."

Shit. Here it comes.

"Yeah," I reply, trying to keep my voice cool.

"You gonna tell me what's gotten you into a funk or am I gonna have to beat it out of you?" His tone is stern, but it is kind.

I sigh. "Oliver, I'm fine."

"See. Right there. That sigh. That sigh means you are NOT fine, Peck."

Damn him.

I insist that I'm fine. Before he can prod me some more, we get a call from dispatch. I sigh in relief this time—saved by dispatch.

A jogger found a body in the park. I can hardly believe which park. Yup, the park right next to 15 Division. The same park where she and I had our morning coffees. The fates are really cruel sometimes. It's like the world is determined to test how strong I will be to staying in my hole.

I'll show the world. I can stay in this hole until the end of time and nobody's going to drag me out.

A body means a forensic pathologist. A forensic pathologist means whoever is working and whoever is closest. And I know exactly who fits those requirements.

Maybe I wasn't saved by dispatch after all.

By the time Oliver and I arrive at the scene, other officers have already roped the area off and the body's been covered by a yellow tarp. I see Traci working the scene and talking to the jogger who looks like he's about to upchuck. Traci sees us and waves us over.

"Thanks for your time and statement, Mr. Taylor. You're free to go now," Traci tells the jogger, who practically sprints away from the scene. I almost snicker at him, but remember that I am on the job.

Traci briefs Oliver and me about the jogger's statement. Then she tells us that they've already called the forensic lab, who's sending their pathologist over. I'm suddenly acutely aware of my every action, especially because Oliver is with me, and I don't want him to pick up on anything that I don't want him to.

Traci waves to somebody over my shoulder, and I freeze as I hear a familiar voice greeting her. I know she's already recognized me.

I turn around slowly and keep a cool smile, remembering that Oliver is right next to me. She's standing there with her damn lunchbox, with her hair up in a bun, not unlike the first time we met. I involuntarily have a flashback to the first time we met.

I greet her politely, and she returns the favor. Whereas before whenever she greeted me, it was with a warm smile and warm eyes, it's now replaced with an equally cool greeting. There's no familiarity in those eyes, or in her words.

Traci points us to the body, and tells us to go check it out, but she has to go give instructions to the other officers. S_he_ ends up walking right next to me, and Oliver behind me. I walk stiffly and scoot over a couple inches so we don't accidentally brush against each other. I close my eyes briefly and I try not to remember the last kiss she gave me, or the warmth that came from her body.

I blow out my breath slowly and remind myself to relax. We are here on a job.

We stand around the body as Holly gets closer and examines it. It looks to be a middle-aged Caucasian woman, with no visible signs of trauma. It's as if she just lied down on the grass to take a nap and her heart just stopped.

Holly makes a few observations about the body. She doesn't believe there's foul play involved, but better be safe than sorry. Unfortunately, there's no ID on the body. Then she stands and looks at me. I freeze.

"Officer Peck, what did the witness say?"

"Uh…uh…" I stammer, unable to reply. Why is she asking me? Is she doing this on purpose?

Oliver jumps in for me and Holly's eyes snap to him. "We actually got here only a couple minutes before you did. Detective Nash has the witness's statement."

"Right," I agree, nodding.

"Thanks, Officer Shaw. I'm going to check in with her first before bringing the body back to the lab." She leaves to talk to Traci and leaves me standing with Oliver. I'm pretty sure my stuttering just gave the entire game away to him.

Shit.

"Well, well Peck."

"What, Oliver," I snap at him.

"Nothing! Just making a few observations of my own, that's all," he turns to me and gives me a knowing look.

"Good. Keep them to yourself," I snap and I turn away to see where Traci is. She's talking to Holly. And I try not to look at her. I'm looking at Traci, I tell myself. I'm not looking at her mouth, or her hands gesturing as she talks.

Maybe they feel my eyes on them, because Traci turns her head my way, closely followed by Holly's head turning. And in a second, I've been caught. I cough and turn back casually to the body and crouch by it, pretending to examine it closely.

"Hey, uh, Peck," I hear Oliver's voice coming from above me. "Looks like Nash wants an officer to go back to the lab with the pathologist. And I've just elected you for the job."

I stand up abruptly.

"What?!" I glare at him.

"Is that going to be a problem? I believe I'm your superior officer, Peck, so if you want to disobey direct orders, be my guest. But I expect you know the consequences," he replies with a hint of a grin.

Damn him. I can see him plotting. I can see him putting it all together. This is what I get for being partnered with Oliver.

"Nope," I seethe, "no problem. None at all. Nope."

"Good!" Oliver claps my back and pushes me towards Holly and Traci. "Have a good time in the lab, Peck."

Oh god, how am I going to survive this? I can't give in. I take the numbers out of the box and remember the 42 years destroyed in 3 minutes. I repeat the numbers to myself. I will beat it into my brain until it wins.

Thank god she has her own car so we don't have to drive together. I take the squad car and drive to the lab. I sit in the parking lot seething and trying to force myself to get out of the car, knowing the longer I wanted, the more suspicious it would seem.

Too late for being suspicious, I thought bitterly. I'm pretty sure me not calling her at all for the past couple days already counted as suspicious. I owe her nothing, I tell myself. We did not date. We were not in a relationship.

I force myself out of the car and walk the familiar route to her lab. When I enter, I see Holly has already changed into her white coat. She has her back to the door and doesn't notice my arrival. I stand in the doorway awkwardly for a few seconds before clearing my throat to announce my entrance.

She whips around and I wave lamely. Another involuntary flashback to the night when I showed up drunk at her door. I swallow the memory. Not here. Not now. Not anymore.

She doesn't even smile at me. Instead, she gestures to a chair nearby and politely invites me to have a seat. She's professional and courteous, of course. I would expect nothing less from her. She's cool as a cucumber, and I admire that.

I, on the other hand, feel like I am sweating bullets. I take a seat stiffly. It's a comfortable temperature in the lab, but I feel like the air is getting warmer. Or is it getting colder? It feels heavy and the silence is not at all like it was during our morning talks. It's sticky and it's unbearable. Hopefully she can get this sorted out quickly so we can go our separate ways.

The body is already laid out on her table and Holly fits her gloves on over her hands. I bite the inside of my mouth to resist the urge to grab her hands. Damn these obsessions trying to break out of their box.

It's like déjà vu—Holly examining a body, I sitting there waiting for a result. But at the same time, it's the complete opposite. I feel like the very air is choking me. I can't stand this silence. How is she able to work in this atmosphere? She really can do anything.

I can't believe she doesn't ask me anything. But I'm thankful she doesn't.

Somewhere inside, my instinct is screaming at me to explain everything to her—to explain why I dropped off the radar. It's screaming at me to explain why I cancelled. But I know I shouldn't. That's counterproductive, I berate myself. You were meant to take care of Dave Hall's case for a reason, I explain to myself. It was the fates warning you of what you were going to get yourself into.

So I sit and I wait. I force myself to sit still and not fidget. I sit and I sweat. I sit and I bite the inside of my mouth in an effort to stop words from coming out. I sit and I keep my hands clasped together.

I look at the clock, willing the hands to move faster. Instead, they seem to be moving in slow-motion. I stare at the hands until my eyes start to tear up. I look away and blink quickly to clear the watering. I don't want Holly to think I'm crying.

I'm one second away from a mental breakdown when I finally jump up and excuse myself to go to the restroom. She doesn't even look up or reply. I scurry out of the lab, heading to the bathroom down the hall.

Inside, I stand and look in the mirror. I look like shit. I wash my face and breathe deeply. I can get through this. It's just a couple hours. I'm mad at myself for being so nervous. To me, that means I was already in too deep with her. It's okay, I tell myself. You got out. You got out before the ship sunk.

I can do this. I can stay strong. I can stay strong _alone_. That's the important part. Others will only bring me down. They will weigh me down. There's only room for one on my boat.

I finally leave the restroom and head back to the lab. And I stop dead in my tracks in the doorway.

She's not examining the body anymore. She's standing at her desk, again with her back to me. She has both hands on the desk, leaning over it. I see her glasses in her right hand. But the thing that stops me in my tracks is her head and it's her body posture. Her head is down. Her posture is defeated—her shoulders are slumped. It's oddly familiar.

I've seen that posture before.

And with that, my resolve crumbles and the walls come crashing down. In my valiant crusade to protect myself from pain and heartache, I inflicted that exact punishment on her. In the time that I've known Holly, I've always seen her carry herself high. She's always carried herself with confidence. And now—now she's been defeated.

And that was never supposed to be part of the plan. Gail Peck, you're a complete idiot.

"Holly."

She immediately straightens, lifts her head, and places her glasses back on. I see her take one last breath and turn around to face me with the same cool expression that she greeted me with at the crime scene.

But now, I think I can see past it. I see a hint of the pain and the questions in her eyes. I can't stand it. I stride purposely to where she's standing and use both hands to grab her face roughly. I survey her eyes closely. Her expression is shocked and it's indignant. Her mouth opens, undoubtedly to ask exactly what the hell I thought I was doing, but before she gets the chance, I swallow her unspoken words with my own mouth. She resists at first and tries to push me away with her hands, but I don't let her. Instead, I pull her closer to me. Slowly, her hands change from pushing me to tugging on my uniform.

I don't stop kissing her. I can't stop kissing her. I'm running out of breath, but I don't care. I tear my mouth away from hers and trail it down her neck. She leans her head back and I gladly explore the vast expanse.

Then suddenly, I'm shoved back forcefully with two hands.

"Out." Her tone wavers, but it's commanding. Her hand raises, slightly trembling, and points to the door.

"Holly," I start, fully intending to explain myself. I try to meet her eyes, but she's looking everywhere else except at me.

"Out," she repeats, with a stronger tone this time. "Leave. I'll send a courier with the lab results. Please leave my lab, Officer Peck, or I'll have to call security to remove you."

"Holly, I'm sorry," I plead, moving closer to her. Instead of listening to me, she backs away from me and turns to reach for the phone that's sitting on her desk. She picks it up and moves her other hand to dial.

I swear bitterly. The last thing I need is Frank getting on my case for making a scene at the forensics lab. Though it's the last thing I want to do, I force myself to turn around and walk out the door. From behind me, I hear Holly sigh and hang up the phone.

What have I done?

I have to fix this. I have to undo this.

* * *

A/N: Boy, what a journey so far. I hope I lived up to your guys' expectations. What's a romance story without some angst, right? By the way, I'm so thankful for all of you guys! The reviews and follows have been fantastic. Thanks for the support! To be continued…hang in there.


	7. Chapter 7

More silence. More loneliness. Except this time, it's not the way it should be.

I try calling her multiple times for the rest of the day. Each time the line rings and then goes to voicemail. Actually, the 16th time I called, it went straight to voicemail.

I'm slightly aware of the fact that I probably seem like a stalker, but I'm not sure what else to do. I've never been on this side of the relationship—the one who's trying to reach out. I'm so used to people always reaching for me that I've never had to reach for somebody. Now I'm much more appreciative of my suitors in the past, especially those who put up with all my bitching.

As soon as my shift is over, I change quickly in the locker room and head straight over to Holly's apartment. I knew her apartment being so close to 15 Division would come in handy. Just…not in the way I expected.

I knock rapidly on the door and wait.

No answer.

I know for a fact her shift is over—it's already 9pm. So she's either avoiding me, or…she went out? It's a weekday night and Holly is hardly the type to go out on weeknights. She likes to curl up on the most comfortable couch in the world with a good cup of tea and just read.

I press my ear to the door to see if I can hear any movement inside.

No movement. No noise.

Damn.

This might constitute as stalking actually. I pace back and forth in the hallway, unsure of what to do. Well, I'm already here. I might as well wait a bit to see if she comes home.

Good plan; I nod to myself to affirm the decision.

I lean with my back against the wall by her apartment door and slide down so I'm sitting. I feel like a child who accidentally got locked out of the house and who's waiting for her mom to come home.

After I've been waiting for about 10 minutes, I see an elderly woman walking my way. She notices me and gives me a strange look. I smile courteously.

"Just waiting for a friend," I say disarmingly.

Apparently, it doesn't help, because she starts to look at me even more suspiciously. She slows down at the door before Holly's and takes her keys out of her bag, all the while shooting me nervous looks.

I sigh. I really didn't want to pull this card, but I really don't want her to call the police and cause extra trouble. I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out my police badge.

"Ma'am, I'm a police officer. Please don't worry, I'm not here to hurt Holly. I'm really just waiting for her."

Instantly her expression changes, and she beams at me instead. Much better.

"Oh! You must be Holly's new friend! Gail, right?"

I'm flabbergasted that she knows my name and I stand up in shock.

"How do you know my name?" I demand slightly brusquely.

The woman waves her hand dismissively. "Oh, Holly mentioned you!"

Huh? She's mentioned me? I've barely even mentioned her to my own friends, but she's mentioned me to her…elderly neighbor?

The woman continues on, apparently relieved that I'm not a stalker. "I ran into her a couple weeks ago on her way out in the morning. Us elderly people, we like to be out and about in the morning, but I know she usually doesn't work that early, so naturally, I asked her what she was doing out so early, and she told me she was having coffee with a new friend from the police station."

The woman peers closely at me. I'm completely taken aback by her open scrutinizing.

"You must be a special new friend, Gail. In the 4 years that I've lived next to Holly, I've never seen her up so early before work. She likes her sleep, that one does. And she should! She works so hard at that lab of hers. She never gives herself a chance to relax. She just works and works—" the woman continues on and on about Holly

I'm speechless. I never even considered the fact that our morning coffee talks were burdensome to Holly. But maybe I've just been entirely selfish this whole time.

"—well, anyway, I'm surprised she's not back from work yet!"

You and me both, lady. You and me both.

"But I do have to get in to because my television show is about to play! It was nice meeting you, Gail. I hope Holly comes back soon," she finishes and enters her apartment without a second glance at me.

Well…at least now I don't have to worry about the police being called on me. I sit back down and I continue waiting.

The time passes slowly, but I wait. I wait because I need to explain myself. I wait because I want to return the favor. Thinking back to the night of the Ford fiasco, I'm pretty sure Holly waited for me in the hallway to find me to talk to me. She waited for me. So I'll wait for her.

Without intending to, I realize that I've pushed Holly into her own hole. I kept trying to think of ways to avoid being pushed by other people that I overlooked the fact that my own actions caused pain to somebody else.

I put my head in my hands and close my eyes. The mental image of Holly's posture in her lab is burned into my mind. I never meant to do it, I think. That consequence never even crossed my mind. I know I've hurt her, but I don't know how to fix it.

So I wait.

* * *

It's past 11pm now and I can hardly believe that I've been sitting outside Holly's apartment door for more than two hours. Half of me is upset because Gail Peck is not desperate. But the other half is desperate.

Maybe I should just try another day.

I stand up and I'm stretching my legs out when I hear a voice swearing coming up the stairs. I hear uneven steps, like the person is struggling to walk up the stairs.

I freeze and I wait.

She comes struggling up the stairs, hanging onto the railing next to her for balance, with her head down. I run over to Holly and immediately get a very strong whiff of alcohol all around.

I run next to her on the stairs and I grasp her waist all before she even looks up. She stops walking and looks up at me and I notice her eyes are unfocused. Holly is completely wasted. If this were any other time, I probably would have wanted to laugh and make fun of her, but this is not that time.

She doesn't seem to recognize me at first, and remains holding onto the railing while peering at me. Her vision remains unfocused and she seems like she's about to fall over any second. She reaches out with her hand and touches my face. For a split second, I wonder if she's forgiven me.

Then in the same motion, she slaps my cheek. It's stinging and definitely _un_forgiving.

I'm rendered speechless again for the second time tonight. I'm shocked, but I don't let go of her.

"You."

I guess she recognizes me now. Holly readjusts her bag over her shoulder and struggles to stand upright without my help. She tries to shove me away, but nearly falls over in the process. I keep a firm hold on her waist.

"I don't need your help, Officer," she spits out. She bats at me with her hand, but the motion is weak.

I instinctively recoil from her words. Her tone is unlike anything I've heard coming from her before. Even though she's drunk, her words contain venom. They are cruel, but with a hint of pain.

"Holly, just let me help you get inside," I beg. I hate seeing her like this. I caused this. I made her into this. And the guilt comes crashing over me in waves at the same time the distress of her words do.

Before she can try or say anything else, I readjust my grip on her waist and crouch down so I can throw her arm over my own shoulder. She doesn't resist, and I take it as a good sign. I take her bag from her and move slowly up the stairs, waiting for her to slowly move her legs too.

Slowly, stumbling the entire way, we make our way to her apartment door. When we get to the door I realize that I need her keys. I carefully lead her so she can lean against the wall while I search through her bag for her keys.

Holly slides down the wall so she ends up sitting on the floor. She puts her head in her hands. I look down and I feel like I'm looking at myself a couple hours ago.

She rubs her face with her hands and takes several deep breaths.

"Gail, you don't need to be here."

Her self-control is amazing. I find the keys and open the door.

"I want to," I tell her simply. I crouch down in front of her and reach out to her hands. I gently move them off her face.

She looks up at me with her bloodshot eyes and another lightning bolt of pain shoots through me.

"I want to," I repeat again.

"I don't want you to," she explains softly. I see her eyes tearing up. Oh god.

"Why not?" I don't know how much of this she'll remember in the morning, but I ask anyway.

Holly puts her head in her hands again. Her words come out, but they're muffled.

"I don't want you to run away again. I don't want to spend days wondering what I could have done differently. I don't want to spend days wondering if I pushed you too far. I don't want to be hurt by you running."

I can't stand this. I extract her face from her hands for the second time and I hold her face so she has to look straight at me.

"I—I didn't mean to run," I try to explain. "It…it just happened."

"Bullshit," Holly swears, and it's a strange feeling hearing the word come out of her mouth. "You know, I tried to understand you. But I told you I'm not a mind reader, Gail. You can't just disappear on somebody like that without any explanation."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I'm not sure what else to say.

She struggles to get out of my hold and stand up, all the while still leaning against the wall behind her for support. I stand with her.

The door to her apartment is open but we both stand in the hallway, unmoving. I look into her eyes and she doesn't avoid my gaze. But her expression is hard to read. I think it's a cross between wanting to yell at me and wanting to just give up.

Her mouth trembles and the tears in her eyes are still there, threatening to escape.

Without thinking about the consequence, I move swiftly and take her by surprise by kissing her. I can't help it. She makes a slight squeak of surprise, but it's muffled by my lips.

She moans into my mouth and the noise echoes through my own body, all the way to my toes and I push harder. I press my body against hers until I feel like I can't get any closer. She kisses me back fiercely and I think of nothing else but her body against mine and her lips against mine. I can taste the alcohol in her mouth, and it's intoxicating.

Her arms come up between us and she places her hands on my chest. She grips my jacket and pulls me even closer—so close I feel like I will suffocate her, so close that every inch of my body is touching hers. Dimly, I register the action as something she did in the lab. In the back of my mind, I add another obsession to my list.

I've never felt like the bigger one in the relationship—the one who's doing the pressing against the wall. I've always been pressed against the wall by somebody else.

I like this feeling. It feels like she is mine and mine alone.

My legs almost give out from under me when her tongue slips into my mouth. It's hot and relentless. Even in her drunkenness, Holly still holds power over me. Her hands move from my jacket to my waist and suddenly I feel her hands underneath my shirt.

Her hands are even hotter and they burn against my skin as she touches me underneath all my layers of clothing. I almost forget which one of us is intoxicated. And that thought brings me out of the fog.

This has to stop. This isn't right. This is not how I want to do things. I don't want to take advantage of her broken state.

It takes my entire willpower to tear my mouth away from hers. I grab her wandering hands and still them before they move any further up. I don't want her to regret anything. I don't want her to think that I'm only using for her physical reasons. I get the feeling she wouldn't be doing this if she were sober. If she were sober she would want to talk it out. She's not herself right now.

I want to do this the right way. My body is still pressed against hers, and our faces are almost touching, but not quite. I can feel her breath coming out as hot puffs of air against my cheek, and I groan on the inside. I bite the inside of my mouth to resist the urge to devour her again.

I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have kissed her. I hate myself for giving her mixed signals but I couldn't help it. Now that the obsessions are out of the box, they are unstoppable. But she is in a weakened state right now, and it's not fair of me. So I reluctantly take a step back from her.

"Why?" She's the first one to react.

"Huh?"

"Why did you do that? Why did you kiss me in the lab? Why do you run away one second and come back the next second, forcing yourself in? It's not fair when you know I can't resist," her voice wavers but she tries.

With those questions, I realize that Holly is not the only one who holds power over me. I realize that I affect her in the same way. The old me would have been gloating, but instead I realize how selfish I've been. I realize I've only been seeing things through my eyes.

"Because I want you. But I don't know how to make this work," I tell her honestly.

Voices and the sound of steps coming up the stairway remind me that we are still outside. Holly's head turns to the source of the noises, but she doesn't move.

"Come on," I say hastily, and I usher her inside her apartment.

I turn on the lights for her and lead her to the couch. She collapses on it immediately. She grabs a pillow and buries her face in it.

"It's not fair," she murmurs into the pillow. I stand nearby, unwilling to be any closer to her than I have to, lest my urges take over my control.

I don't respond, because I want to have a conversation with her when she can remember every word that I tell her.

"It's not fair," she repeats into her pillow, louder this time. Then suddenly she lifts her head to search for me.

"I know."

"Then why?" she pleads. "Why do you do it?"

"I…I don't really know," I answer truthfully.

"Well then," she says slowly with effort, "tell me when you do." And with that, she turns and lies down sideways on the couch, facing inwards. I take it as a sign that she is done with this conversation.

I'm still standing in her living room. I don't think I'm supposed to leave a drunken Holly alone. What if she needs something?

Within a couple seconds, I hear deep breathing coming from the couch. Wow.

I've definitely learned a couple things about drunken Holly tonight, I reflect.

She can get violent.

She swears.

She is still able to somewhat carry a conversation.

She falls asleep really quickly.

She can get kind of handsy.

Most importantly—she can be vulnerable, just like me. I kept thinking this entire time that I was the only one who was afraid of being hurt. But it turns out she's afraid of being hurt at the same time as I was. And I hurt her.

I creep silently around the couch and into Holly's bedroom. I try not to let my eyes wander around because I don't really have permission to be snooping in her room. I grab a blanket from her bed and go back out into the living room.

Holly is definitely sound asleep. I'm guessing she doesn't get piss drunk too often, so the combination of the emotional roller coaster that I accidentally took her on and the effects of alcohol knocked her out completely. I cover her with the blanket and look around her kitchen for a glass so I can fill it with water and leave it next to her, just in case she needs it.

I don't want to leave, I realize. If I leave, who knows when she'll let me back in.

So I peruse her bookshelf and I find one of those books on philosophy that she used to always rave about. I take a seat at her desk in the living room and turn on the small lamp, so it doesn't disturb her.

I read. And I wait.

* * *

A/N: They'll be okay. You'll see.


	8. Chapter 8

She doesn't stir at all throughout the night. Not one movement. Not one snore. A couple hours after she fell asleep, I was so astounded by the lack of noise that I went to go check on her just to make sure she was even still breathing.

She was, of course.

I read through the night nonstop. I only look up from the book and notice the time when I hear a door slam in the hallway. Maybe Holly's elderly neighbor is on her way out to do whatever it is old people do. I glance at my watch—it's 6:35am.

Only when I notice the time do I realize that I accidentally just stayed up all night reading. Reading a philosophy book. I'm slightly proud of myself, but simultaneously disgusted because Gail Peck is not a nerd. I never pulled an all-nighter throughout any years of my education.

But I have to be at work in 25 minutes. Thinking about the long shift I have ahead of me makes me want to call in sick. But I know Frank can't afford to have any missing officers right now. Swarek and Price still haven't been cleared for duty yet.

I sigh. I guess that's the price I have to pay.

I peek over at Holly's sleeping form on the couch. She seriously still hasn't moved a muscle. I contemplate waking her up because I still want to talk to her, but I can't be late for parade. But what do I say? I imagine the conversation in my head—Hey Holly, could you wake up so we can talk about last night and our relationship? I make a face to myself and almost gag. Not smooth at all.

Maybe I should just make some coffee and see if she wakes up on her own in the next 20 minutes. I search her kitchen for a coffeemaker and find one almost immediately, sitting in the corner of the counter. As I turn it on and wait for the coffee to brew, the smell permeates the apartment.

Unexpectedly, Holly's head pops up from the couch. I almost jump in surprise. Really? Me walking around didn't wake her up but the smell of coffee did? She's absolutely amazing.

She looks bleary as she sits up and rubs her eyes. I don't think she realizes that I'm still here because she hasn't looked my way yet. For a relatively perceptive woman, Holly can be pretty oblivious to her surroundings sometimes.

Again, I clear my throat to announce my presence.

She immediately jumps off the couch and turns my way. Her expression is one of shock and disbelief. Her hair, for once, is not completely impeccable. It's the first time I've ever seen her look anything close to disheveled, and actually it's not even comparable to what I look like in the morning. My hair is pretty much a rat's nest in the morning until I tame it into something.

"Why are you still here?" she demands.

Well, good morning to you, sunshine.

I shrug. "I stayed. Just in case."

Holly gapes at me in amazement. I'm not sure if she's shocked because she really did _not_ want me to stay or because I really did stay the night.

Then she clears her throat and starts messing around with the blanket on the couch, avoiding my gaze. "Well, you didn't need to. I told you, you didn't need to be here."

So she does remember last night.

"And I told you, I wanted to."

Why doesn't she get it? I move from the kitchen to be closer to her. I need her to understand. I need her to understand that it was a mistake. That I'm sorry for pushing her into the hole.

"Holly," I stand behind her—her back is still to me, folding and re-folding the blanket on the couch.

She sighs and takes a breath.

"I don't want to do this if you can't do this, Gail. I'm not going to start this if you're not willing to start with me. And I think you made it pretty clear a couple days that you can't do this. We didn't even _start_ anything and you ran. You ran."

"I know I did," I protest. I understand why she's upset. But I need her to understand that I want to try now. So I tell her. "But I want to try now."

She whips around, her eyes flashing. I'm surprised laser beams aren't shooting from her eyes. I almost cringe from the sight.

"You _told_ me you would try. You told me that days ago! Do you remember? Was that your idea of trying, Gail?"

She has a point. But she doesn't understand. She didn't see Dave. She didn't see that relationship fall apart. She at least deserves an explanation. Then she can decide on her own if it works for her.

"A couple days ago…we got a case," I start off tentatively. I explain everything from the beginning. I explain the best I can how broken Dave was when it all ended. I explain, even though I don't think words could ever paint the picture I saw. But I give it my best shot.

As I tell the story, Holly's expression softens, but only slightly. Her jaw is still set and stiff, like she's not sure if she wants to accept this story.

"Holly, you should have seen him. She just walked off. She just walked out on him! 42 years," I finish, looking down, reliving that moment when his wife walked out. "42 years…and it was gone."

"And?"

I look up.

Holly's standing there with a slightly empathetic expression. But she seems to be expecting more from me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, somewhat confused.

"What does this have to do with us?" she crosses her arms and sits down on the couch, leaning back and giving me her teacher look.

Damn her. Any idiot with half a brain could piece together what Dave's story has to do with our relationship. But she's making me say it out loud again.

"It…it makes me scared," I try to rationalize my thoughts out loud. Thinking thoughts in my own head is one thing, but saying them out loud is a lot harder. In my head they are all jumbled, but I know they are there. Saying them out loud forces me to organize them.

"It makes me scared because I don't want to start anything…if it's just going to end. I don't want to go through what he went through. I don't want to be hurt again."

I can't look her in the eyes. Funny how before I was the one trying to get her to meet my gaze, but now I am the one looking away. That's what happens when you make me talk about my feelings, or whatever. I stare intensely at the ground, feeling like I've just pried open my heart and given it to some woman, who last night, slapped me and told me to leave. Even now, I'm scared that she's going to stomp on it and throw it out her window.

No.

Yes, I'm scared. I'm scared of being hurt. But Holly is too. And I'm scared of hurting her.

I gather my courage and I gather every ounce of resolution that I have from every bone of my body. I take a step closer to her sitting on the couch, and I raise my eyes from the floor to meet her gaze squarely.

"But seeing you yesterday…it made me realize that by trying to protect myself, I think I hurt you. And I never meant to do that. I did the very thing to you that I didn't want to happen to _myself_. And that wasn't fair of me."

Holly snorts. She tries to play her behavior yesterday off as nothing, I think. I can see it in her eyes. Even though she wants to roll her eyes and act like it was nothing, act like the strong one, I know. For the first time in our friendship/relationship, I feel like I can see the real Holly. The vulnerable one who's hiding behind the strong exterior. Not that Holly is weak. No, she's anything but that. She's much much stronger than I am.

I sit on the coffee table in front of her. Now Holly is avoiding eye contact with me. I grab her hands and pull her closer so she's leaning forward.

"I'm scared of being hurt. I know you're scared too. Maybe we can both be scared together?" I shrug and half-smile at her. That sounded not as lame in my head.

She finally looks at me. I can see that I've almost persuaded her. Come on, Holly, just give it another try. I try to push the thought from my mind to hers. Maybe she'll pick it up with her mind-reading skills—that she claims _not_ to have.

"But I don't want you to be with me out of pity. I don't want you to be with me just because you don't want to hurt me. I want you to be with me because you want to be with me," her voice is one that is timid, and it's a little uncharacteristic of her.

"Holly! I'm not choosing to be with you now out of pity. I told you before—I like how you make me feel. I like how you teach me things. And…I have an obsession with you. That is definitely not pity. I want to be with you because I want to," I explain to her patiently.

And it's true now. I want to see how and where this will go. If I still end up in a hole by myself, so be it. At least I tried and at least I know for sure.

She squeezes my hand and takes a deep breath. I hold mine because I'm not sure what she's going to say next.

"So…what's with this obsession of yours with me? You sure it's not in a creepy way?" she grins and her eyes smile, like the way they used to when we had morning coffees.

I sigh in relief and move from the coffee table to the couch, so I can sit next to her. It feels good to be next to her again, just to feel her solid presence there. For a moment there, I felt like I had reached my hand into the hole she fell into and she was refusing to grab it. But she did, and now I can't let her down.

I curl up in the corner and turn to look at her. "No, it's not in a creepy way! God Holly, do I _seem_ like a creeper to you?"

She shrugs. "Well, you never know. There are stalkers out there who are pretty good at blending in with us."

I snort and roll my eyes. "I can assure you, I'm not one of them."

"That's what a stalker would say."

"Whatever."

And everything is back to normal. Then I finally remember the time. I look at my watch. 6:55.

"Shit, I gotta go. Parade's in 5 minutes!" I stand up from the couch abruptly and make a move for the door.

"Wait, did you even sleep last night?" Holly demands, standing up from the couch also.

"Uh…maybe?"

"I'll take that as a no."

There she goes with the mind reading again!

"It's okay," I shrug it off. It's really no big deal, actually. I'll just make sure to grab some coffee or something before I start shift.

"No, it's not! Are you going to be okay working?" she questions me, and I almost feel like I'm under interrogation—but I'm the police officer here.

"Holly, I'll be fine. It's fine, really," I try to convince her. I think I'm pretty good at convincing her—look what I just did in the past 20 minutes!

She contemplates my answer and stares me down. I try really hard not to be intimidated by her stare-down. Seriously, it's kind of scary.

"Fine," she crosses her arms and huffs. "BUT, I want you to go to sleep right after shift is over! Understand?"

I wave my hand impatiently. "Okay, okay. But I have to go! Do you want to make me late _again_ to parade?"

Holly grins and I'm guessing she's remembering why I was late last time. I blush inwardly as I remember too.

"Okay. I'll talk to you later then?"

"I promise. And this time, I really do promise."

* * *

A/N: There, I fixed it! Sorry this took a bit longer but it's up now. But my workload is piling up, so updates may be slower.

Also, If you're following the story, you may have gotten two emails I think about a new chapter 8...I uploaded it too hastily and decided to change some stuff last minute, so I redid it. Sorry!


	9. Chapter 9

"You're supposed to be sleeping."

"You know, most people answer the phone with 'hello'," I reply to Holly's demanding tone over the phone.

"Well, most people tend to follow doctors' instructions. And my specific instructions were for you to go to sleep right after shift."

She can be seriously demanding sometimes. But instead of finding it repulsive like I do when other people boss me around, I find it endearing.

"Relax Holly, I literally just got off shift, okay? I'm on the way and just wanted to talk to you for a bit," I explain. I just wanted to hear her voice. I need to hear it to reassure myself that everything is still okay.

"Well…I guess if you're on the way home, it's okay," she concedes. Point—Gail. Holly might have mind reading skills, but it may turn out that I have some skills of my own.

"So what are you up to? Did you go into work today?"

"Nah, I called in sick. This hangover is just a little bit too vicious for me. Luckily no emergencies popped up today, so I didn't need to go in," she says in relief.

"Lucky you," I lament. Wait, she had a hangover? And she was still able to have a conversation with me about emotions and crap this morning? How does Holly do it all?

"Not so lucky when I feel like there are a thousand tiny men with hammers all chipping away at the inside of my brain," she replies dryly.

"Well, that's what happens when you drink yourself into a hole," I say in response, making sure to keep my voice light. I don't want her to take it the wrong way.

"Oh wait, hold on just a sec. That's the door."

I wait patiently and the door opens up to a very shocked Holly, mouth agape and everything.

"Wha—what the hell? What are you doing here?" she challenges. "You said you were on the way home!" she accuses me.

I shake my head. "Nope. I never said that. I never said I was going home. I said I was on the way. On the way to your place. Surprise!" I grin and give her a thumbs up.

Holly frowns at me and furrows her brow.

"Come on, you're not even gonna ask me to come in? I'm about to fall over," I complain, stamping my feet.

She continues frowning, but steps aside so I can come in. I head straight to her couch. I'm tempted to steal her couch from her. If I could ever get it out the door, that is. I flop down on it sideways with a giant sigh and throw my head back. Then I lift it back up when I realize Holly is still standing by the door.

"Uh, do you not want me to be here?" I ask hesitantly. Did I just overstep the boundaries on our newly recovered friendship/relationship?

"No, no, it's not that," she mumbles, turning to me and closing the door. "I'm just surprised that's all. I didn't think you would be comfortable with seeing me again so quickly after this morning."

Oh. She was scared that I was going to run again. I guess I can't blame her for being doubtful. I pat the cushion next to me and sit up. She sits down slowly and turns to me, waiting for my words.

"Holly, I told you I was really going to try again. So I'm here. And if it's okay with you, I'd like to just stay here with you for a bit. Unless you're not okay with it. If that's the case, please…tell me." Even though I don't think I would be able to handle it if she told me to get out.

"No." Holly's response—short and succinct. She smiles at me and I feel like I've just won the greatest present in Santa's bag. "You can stay. I want you to stay."

"Great!" I lean back against the couch and stick my feet up on the coffee table. "So are we still on mini-golf or what?"

"Somebody is ambitious," she's still smiling.

"Pecks are always ambitious. It's in our genes."

"Ah. That makes sense then." She leans back into the couch as well.

For a hungover person really wanted me to go to sleep, Holly is pretty open to carrying on our conversation. We make plans for mini-golf later and discuss my day. It's like this morning never happened. But we know it did, and that's what makes it okay. We're not avoiding it; we're not pushing it away. We are just…both okay with what happened. It's strangely unlike most of the awkward situations in my life. Most of the time, when conflict arises in my life, I just push past it like it never happened. I ignore it and I just hope it'll mend on its own. But, this is not like that.

I tell her about the book I read, and I ask her to clarify some things I couldn't understand. After getting the initial shock that I actually read one of her books, she was more than happy to explain and clear up some of my confusion. This actually got her started on one of her long-winded ramblings.

I usually don't feel too comfortable with other people's homes, because well, it's not _my_ home. But, here at Holly's, I feel like it could be home. NOT that I would move in any time soon. But with her couch and her talking, I feel a lot more comfortable than I have in a long time. Somehow, while we talk, I end up lying down sideways again, this time with my head on a pillow in Holly's lap. I don't remember how I got into this position, but I guess it just naturally happened.

She doesn't seem to mind, but continues talking about her philosophy book. Wait, nope, she's switched to classical music. She's talking about some dude—Brahms? Why do all these guys' names start with B?

I smile and I nod, all the while watching her upside down excited expression and her hand gestures as she talks about him. Slowly though, I can feel myself dropping off into sleep.

The next thing I know, Holly is gently shaking my shoulder.

"Gail. Gail. You should get home. It's late and I really do want you to get some rest. Sorry for talking your ear off…" she trails off with an embarrassed look on her face.

I yawn and reluctantly sit up. Holly's lap is pretty damn comfortable. "No, it's fine. It put me to sleep and I doubt I could've dozed off without it actually."

"I think I'm supposed to take that as an insult," Holly says thoughtfully.

"Don't."

I stand up from the couch and stretch my arms—then I notice the outside world from her window. It's snowing. Damn it. I hate walking in the snow. I would call Chris to come pick me up, but I feel really bad for making him pick me up all those times from the Penny. I'll just have to suck it up.

Holly sees me looking out the window. "Are you sure you can get home okay? Do you need a ride? I can take you back if you want."

"No, I don't want to make you make an extra trip. It's fine," I say in slightly false bravado. It's just a little bit of snow, I tell myself. Snow with…what looks like a pretty beastly wind. I sigh internally. That's what I get for coming over here I guess.

"Gail, do you just want to…stay?" Holly squints at me. No, stop infiltrating my thoughts! I try to put up a mental block.

"Just stay, okay?"

I hem and I haw a bit, but I eventually agree. But I feel pretty disgusting because I think I've been wearing the same clothes for two days in a row now. Before I can even voice the thought aloud, Holly goes into her bedroom and comes out with…very unflannel pajamas.

"Here," she hands them to me. "Thought maybe you would want to get out of those clothes."

"Thanks," I say, taking them from her.

Wait.

She's not expecting me to sleep like _with_ her right? Wait, does she think I'm expecting to sleep with her? I stand there awkwardly, with the pajamas in my hand. Also, if she was expecting _that_, she wouldn't have handed me clothes right?

"I'll just sleep out here, I guess," I say nonchalantly, gesturing to the couch.

Holly crosses her arms and tilts her head. "You sure? My bed is pretty comfortable."

I cough anxiously but nod my head vigorously all the while looking at a point somewhere above Holly's head. "Yeah, it's fine. I really like your couch."

"More than me?"

I focus on her face and she's grinning at me.

"It's not like that!" I protest. "I just don't…want to do anything. Not that I don't ever want to," I say hastily. "But I just don't want to rush things. I want to do this properly. And I'm not sure I would be able to trust myself, honestly," I add on as an afterthought.

And it's the truth. I do _not_ want to think about what could potentially happen if you put Holly and me in the same bed…under the same covers. With very unflannel pajamas. Or maybe no pajamas at all.

I resolutely insist that I'm going to sleep on the couch. She finally agrees, but I can tell it's with some sort of relief. I think she knows that we need to take this relationship, whatever it is, slowly. I'm not ready to call her my 'girlfriend' or anything, but I think we're just going to take it as it is and let the natural flow guide us along.

I change and brush my teeth with the extra one she has in the bathroom. When I come out, Holly is sitting on the couch with an extra blanket and pillow.

"Well then…good night I guess?" she stands up and hands me the blanket.

"Good night," I affirm. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"It's the least I could do, after I slapped you last night and made you stay here," she sighs, running her hands through her hair. "I'm sorry for that, by the way."

"You didn't make me stay here, Holly. I wanted to. I chose to. Actually, you told me to leave, remember?" I remind her of the true facts.

"True," she acknowledges. "Well, in any case, you definitely need to get some sleep. So get in your bed, young lady." Holly wags her finger at me and then leaves the room and turns off the living room light on the way to her bedroom. I lay down in the darkness, looking up at the ceiling that I can't see.

The last 24 hours have been…completely up and down. Last night, I came to Holly's apartment, hoping to fix things, but at that time, she didn't even want to fix anything. She didn't want to see me. But for once in my life, I fought for something that I wanted.

I fought because for her. I want to try this with her. I'm going to do this the right way. We'll take it slow—none of this friends with benefits crap. Holly deserves better. And I'm going to make sure she gets it.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry for any mistakes! I started writing this and it kind of just finished itself in one sitting so I wanted to just get it out there before things get really crazy. Feedback is always appreciated and this journey is definitely to be continued. You guys are awesome, seriously.


	10. Chapter 10

True to the promise I made to myself on Holly's couch, our relationship does progress slowly in the next couple weeks. Funnily enough, the couch itself seems to turn into another obsession of mine. Or, I guess it becomes a solid anchor around which our relationship revolves. We watch movies while sitting on her couch, we drink tea, we talk about work, and we definitely do other things besides those activities.

We touch and we kiss and it's always so amazing. But each time I make sure to pull back before clothing starts being discarded. I tear my mouth off of hers, or her neck, wherever it happens to be at that point, and sit up, almost always out of breath. She always has this dazed look about her and I love looking at it. It's like I've kissed her into another world and she's out there floating in the space. I know what it looks like because I feel the same way. And it's amazing that I, Gail Peck, could push her to that point. But then she shakes it off, runs her hand through her messy hair and nods knowingly. She respects my decision and I'm glad for that. Because if she ever pushed me to go farther, I don't think there is any force on earth that would make me say no.

I know it seems like I'm being a prude, but there's just been too many times when I fell into the physical part of a relationship first and then later fucked up the emotional part because that's not the way normal relationships work right? Isn't it better to work out and build the emotional connection before you fall into bed together? At least, that's what I tell myself. And it seems to be working. So I think I'll stick to it.

We don't talk about the drunken night that Holly had. And we're both okay with it. But I think this time around, we're a little more cautious about our progress. Even more so than before.

Holly and I go back to getting our morning coffees. I still feel terrible whenever I have a particularly early shift, especially after speaking to Holly's neighbor, but Holly insists on doing it anyway. And that's another reason that I really want to do this right. Because she tries too.

We finally make the time to mini-golfing and I almost want to throw myself into the stupid fake river that's on the course. Though I don't think I could drown in it since it's only about three inches deep. Too bad, I contemplate.

"Gail! It's your turn."

I snap my head back from staring at the river and see Holly brandishing her golf club at me. Very threatening indeed.

"God, Holly, I don't even know where my ball is. I think it disappeared."

"Don't give me that, it's right over there."

"But I suck at this! You keep beating me to the hole by like 7 moves!"

"7 strokes, Gail. And I think it was 8." Holly winks at me and she really needs to stop doing that, because it throws off what little game I have.

I snarl at her. "See my point?"

"Oh come on. Just because you're not amazing at it doesn't mean it's not fun!"

"That's not why this isn't fun," I frown, and walk over to take my shot. Or stroke. Whatever.

"Just be a little careful in aiming! You aim a gun pretty much on a daily basis and you can't aim a tiny ball into a hole?" Holly scoffs.

"It's not exactly the same thing, Miss Forensic Pathologist. You should know that. Now shush."

I hit the ball and the damn thing misses the opening it's supposed to shoot through and rolls back to basically its original position by my feet. I almost want to pick it up and chuck it into the hole at this point.

Holly, on the other hand, is way ahead of me and sinks her ball into the hole with her next move. Damn her. I'm in a pretty foul mood as I continue trying to make my ball go the same way. I finally make it in after 4 more strokes and stomp over to the hole to pick the ball out. When I stand up straight, I feel an arm around my waist that turns me around roughly.

Hot lips are on mine and I drop my ball and club unexpectedly as I lose myself in her presence. I forget that we're standing in the middle of an open mini-golf course. I feel only her and her warmth. It's like she's completely captured me and is holding me prisoner.

When Holly finally lets me go, I blink and I stutter. My foul mood's gone, to say the least.

"There. Better?" Holly grins at me. I think she likes taking me by surprise. It's her chance to sneak up on me and she likes it. And I like that she likes it.

"B-better," I catch myself after a moment. "Now if you could do that after every hole, this could be as good as a trip to Disneyland."

Holly agrees and we continue to finish the course in record time. Amazingly, my game improves. Either I'm finally getting a hang of this or my own personal incentive is giving me motivation. I think it's the latter. We're at the front desk returning our equipment when I hear an unfamiliar voice.

"Holly?"

We both turn from the counter and I see some woman with dark brown hair pretty similar to Holly's walking towards us with a smile. Immediately, my defenses go up. Holly's presence makes them go down, but this woman is smiling with a smile that makes me altogether uncomfortable. She's pretty and walks with a confidence that I probably never could manage. The only walk I can do is the police officer one.

"Emma! What are you doing here?" Holly takes a step forward and hugs her warmly. Okay, defenses up and attack cannons are out. Who the hell is this woman?

Emma-with-brown-hair turns and gestures towards a group of people who've just walked in and are standing by the door.

"Just an outing with family. Dad insisted that we go mini-golfing since we haven't gone in forever."

"Ohhh, that's right. I remember. Good times."

I'm starting to feel like I should excuse myself from eavesdropping on their conversation. I stand there awkwardly watching Holly and Emma-with-brown-hair exchange some more small talk. I'm almost about to leave without Holly when I decide to clear my throat.

Holly finally seems to remember she's here with someone. She turns around and pulls my arm towards the stranger woman.

"Gail, this is Emma. We used to be roommates in college."

I breathe an internal sigh of relief. Roommates. Not an ex.

"Hi, I'm Emma," she smiles and reaches her hand out for me to shake. She's friendly, I guess. Okay, attack cannons are being stored away.

"Hi, nice to meet you," I say politely, shaking her hand. The three of us stand there awkwardly in silence for a couple seconds. Oops, I guess I made it awkward.

"Well, I guess I should get our stuff and head in. We don't want to be out too late and who knows how long this round will take us. People start accusing each other of cheating and whatnot," Emma shakes her head and laughs. "Our family takes this game way too seriously."

"I remember," Holly smiles cordially and nods. Okay, so clearly Holly has a history with Emma and her family. Hm. Okay, they were roommates, so it would kind of make sense that she knew her family.

"I'll let you guys take off then. It was nice meeting you Gail. Holly, we have to grab a coffee sometime when you're not so busy. See ya," Emma waves and moves past us towards the counter.

I link my arm through Holly's and together we walk towards the door. We haven't done a lot of arm-linking in public, but I feel the need to remind Holly of who I am. Even though they were roommates, I can't help but feel slightly threatened.

"She seems nice," I remark lightly as we walk to Holly's car.

"Yeah, Emma's nice. We used to be pretty close in college," Holly replies quietly. Her demeanor has changed completely from when she greeted Emma. It's subdued and not at all friendly. It's like she doesn't really want to talk about it. I didn't even get this feeling from her two minutes ago. Holly must be pretty good at hiding feelings when she wants to. Except for that one night, I guess. It must've been a lot of alcohol.

"Yeah, you guys seemed like you knew each other pretty well before."

"Yup, you could say that."

Holly doesn't say any more on the matter, and I don't push. I don't push because I don't know how to push. I don't know how to ask what happened, and why Holly seemed slightly upset over the meeting. I don't push because I'm afraid to know the answer. All she said is that they were roommates in college. That could be true, but maybe she's not telling the whole story. Maybe they fought and didn't end things too well? Maybe they dated. I don't know. I don't want to know, I think. I'm not ready to know about Holly's past life.

Holly drives me home and we recap our moments on the golf course. Even though she's laughing, I sense a bit of secrecy coming from her side of the car. Don't ask me how I can sense that. Maybe Holly is seriously rubbing off on me. I hold her hand in my lap, like I always do when we're in the car. I hold it as an anchor. In the bottom of my stomach, I feel like Holly is floating away and this time, it's not because of me. Which mean it is not okay.

We arrive at the apartment, and she puts the car into park and turns to me.

"Today was fun," she tells me.

"Sure, fun for you. You got to see for the second time how much I suck at sports. I told you I'm no good at this."

"No, I think you improved this time. Definitely better than the batting cages," Holly smiles slowly. I like it when she does that.

"Holly…" I start and trail off. I'm not sure how to ask the question. I'm not even sure what question I'm trying to ask.

"Yes. The answer's yes." Holly cuts in, squeezing my hand as she speaks.

"What, yes?"

"We dated. Emma and I. If you could call it that."

I feel my stomach drop out, even though I know it shouldn't. It seems childish of me, but I just never gave a thought to Holly's life before our meeting. It's stupid, but I feel like her presence only existed starting from when we met.

"Okay. And?"

"And nothing. It ended. And that's that. It's fine, Gail. Please don't worry about it. We're together now, right?"

"Yes. But are you sure that's all?" I push because Holly opened the door herself.

"That's all you need to know. It was a long time ago, and…it's in the past. And that's where it should stay. So please, don't worry. I'll be fine. It's fine. You know how it is with ex's," Holly smiles, but it's a sad smile.

"You sure?" I squint at her and try to squeeze some more information out of her.

"Yes."

Slightly relieved, but not that much so, I lean over and I peck her on the lips. "Okay. If you say so, I'll let it go. But you can call me if you need anything."

"I will. See you tomorrow morning?"

"Coffee's on you this time. You owe me for the torture session today."

I open the car door and leave Holly laughing behind me in the car. As I stomp into the apartment and undress all the layers, I can't help but still wonder about Emma.

Who is she and how was she able to throw Holly off like that? I thought Holly was one that couldn't be broken, except by me. It was rather egotistical thinking, but I guess it makes sense, since I haven't known Holly too long. We rarely talk about our pasts, but Holly at least knows about Nick. How could she not, since we pretty much started our relationship when I was still trying to pick myself out of that mess?

But why didn't Holly tell me about Emma? I try not to think about the answer, because Holly told me not to worry. She told me it's in the past. It is in the past. So I should let it go. But, as I settle down on our couch in the living room (which is nowhere near as comfortable as Holly's), turning on the TV so I could play some of Dov's video games, it's still solidly there, in the back of my mind. And it doesn't go away.

* * *

A/N: Hope everybody had fun and safe holidays! One thing to note though, I've only been mini-golfing ONCE in my life, so I'm sorry if I got anything wrong in that aspect. Would love to know what you guys thought of this chapter.


	11. Chapter 11

You know that seed that gets planted in your mind? It grows like a weed. It spreads like a poison. And you can't get rid of it. You can't kill it, you can't stop it. It just refuses to leave. That's the problem. The question spreads in me and I can't sleep until I get an answer. I try to be the rational person but I just can't figure out why Holly won't tell me. It drives me crazy for a couple days and I go back and forth in my mind, debating whether to ask her more about it or just to ignore it. It's an obsession, and it's not a good one.

Clearly I can't ignore it, so I decide to ask her. A couple days after our run-in with Emma, I stop by Holly's apartment after work ends. We've been still talking but I can tell there's something between us. I'm probably no good at hiding the fact that I'm still wondering about Emma so Holly has definitely picked up on it. But she doesn't ask me about it because she doesn't want me to ask her about it. So it just kind of goes in a big fat circle where nobody wants to talk.

And since I am trying to do this right, I'm going to take the first step and ask her if she'll tell me. If she won't, then…then I'll figure it out. But we agreed to try. So I'm hoping she'll meet me halfway.

I exhale and knock on her door.

"Hey Gail," Holly smiles and leans in to give me a kiss—just a quick one. Good. I don't need any distractions.

"Can I come in?"

"Of course!" She opens the door wider and I walk around her into her apartment. I head straight for the couch.

"Want some tea?" Holly heads into the kitchen and opens a cupboard to get her mugs without waiting for my reply. I nod even though she has her back to me.

After a couple minutes, she hands me the steaming mug—the Mozart one. Or was it Beethoven?

Holly says nothing as she joins me on the couch. I can't tell if her silence is waiting for me to say something or just regular silence. Well, since I'm already here, I guess there's no backing out. I breathe in through my nose and hold my breath like I'm about to take a plunge into the ocean.

"Will you…will you tell me? About you and Emma?"

Holly exhales slowly through her nose and fidgets in her seat. Like, actually fidgets. She doesn't respond for a moment.

"Well. I can't pretend like I wasn't expecting that question. I don't think I hid it very well. Running into her was really unexpected."

"Why? Why do you feel like you had to hide it though?" I protest. Why does she feel like she can't be honest with me? What is so wrong with our relationship that she doesn't feel the need to share something from her past that clearly hurt her?

"It's not that I wanted to hide it," Holly isn't looking at me at all, she's only looking at the mug in her hands. Her hands keep rubbing around it, like she's trying to get warmth from it. "I just…don't like talking about it. I don't, actually."

"Don't what?"

"Talk about it. I haven't really talked to anybody about it. It's just…it's weird. And it hurts and it's not okay to talk about that stuff. I mean it's not okay for me to talk about stuff. You can talk about stuff if you want to, but Emma really isn't just stuff. She's Emma and there is a long long story there if I could even bring myself to talk about it and I wouldn't even know where to start—"

"Holly! Just start. Somewhere. Anywhere." She's doing the word vomit thing again and it's making my head spin.

A pause. A breath.

"I don't know if I can."

"I won't make you," I tell her. And it's the truth. I'm not going to bind her and force her to tell me their story. "But I would really like to know. Because it seems important to you. And you're important to me."

"She…she broke my heart. She did. After her, I didn't know if I could be whole again," Holly's voice is a whisper now and I get a tingly feeling from her words. I know that feeling when you're so broken, you don't even know how to begin to put yourself back together again. You don't even know if you have all the pieces to do it.

* * *

*Holly's POV*

I was nervous. After three years of horrible roommate experiences, you can't really blame me. But Emma seemed nice enough the couple times I met her. She had an apartment with an extra bedroom and was looking to rent it out. I called her and she showed me the place. She was definitely pretty courteous. Pretty too. She had that air of confidence about her that I wish I could have. So I agreed to live with her. I signed the lease and made it official.

I was still the quiet science major who sat in the back during lectures and rarely participated in discussions. Not that I needed to, I understood the material perfectly on my own. Emma was a literature major and it showed. She was eloquent and her bedroom was stacked to the ceiling with all sorts of novels.

We got along in a very polite way at first. She greeted me when she came home, she didn't make a mess, she didn't throw parties, but we weren't close. She seemed to go out a lot and had a lot of friends. Sometimes she'd have a friend over, but it was always only one at a time. And they usually slept over in Emma's room. It wasn't until the 5th or 6th one that I realized that those girls she bought back to the apartment weren't just "friends".

Even then, I only realized that because one of them was pretty loud during their…sleepovers. The next morning, after her "friend" had left, Emma came into my room with a sheepish smile and some crazy looking hair.

"Sorry about that last night," she made a face. "We didn't…mean to be so loud."

"No, no problem," I said, keeping my eyes on my computer screen. I tried not to look at her because I was already trying so hard not to blush. Strange that I had to keep myself from blushing when Emma was the one who was caught in her night time activities.

"You're okay with me right? I guess it's pretty clear that I am…who I am now. Maybe I should have told you, but I don't know, it didn't seem like it would matter to you."

"It doesn't," I told her, finally turning to look at Emma's face.

At that point in my life, I think it was fair to say that I was still pretty closeted. In fact, I wasn't even sure that I played for the other team. I know that I had various crushes on girls throughout my life but nothing substantial. Everyone has those crushes, I told myself. So I dated guys and I slept with guys, even though something deep down didn't feel right.

After that morning, since Emma had finally been open with me about who she was, I think she felt more relieved. And so, she became friendlier to me. She would insist on me coming with her to the bar for some drinks, even though I had some crazy exams that week. At first, I resisted. But then she literally shoved me out the door and locked it so I couldn't get back in since she left my keys inside. So I had no choice. And it turned out to be a pretty fun night.

That's when our friendship really took off. We would hang out a lot more in the common area, instead of staying in our rooms. We would have beers on the weekends, just chilling and eating junk food. Though I had gone through 3 years of college already, I never had a friendship like the one Emma and I had.

Her family actually lived in the area near our college, so they would stop by the apartment every now and then to pick Emma up for a meal. The first couple times, we would just exchange some small talk while they were waiting for Emma to get ready. Her parents and her 4 younger siblings—3 brothers and 1 sister were all just like her, easy to get along with. After a couple times, they invited me out with them. So I went. I went because my own family was far away and I missed that environment. They invited me right into the middle of their circle. We went out to eat and sometimes we would go bowling or go mini-golfing. I became part of their family easily.

Emma was easygoing, funny, and trustworthy. She had a way of making you feel like you're the only person that mattered. She listened when I had to rant about some jerk of a biology professor or some incompetent idiot in the group project work. She would ask me if I was seeing any guys or if I was interested in anybody. I always told her no. But slowly and surely, I fell for her, against my better judgment. My feelings beat out the rational part of me. It kind of crept up on me, like in the night. I knew I shouldn't, but I did.

Before I knew it, every time she brought a different girl home, I would find myself seething in my room. I tried not to care. I tried so hard. I kept my eyes shut, and I blasted the loudest classical music I could find through my headphones. Wagner is good for this, I found. His music is so intricate and so complex, that it almost made me forget about what was happening. Almost.

I tried to swallow my feelings. But do you know how hard it is to get over somebody that you see every day? Somebody who is literally 10 feet away from you when you sleep? It's impossible. I couldn't help it anymore. So one night, during one of our nights out at a bar, I kissed her. It took a lot of alcohol and all the courage I could find in me, but I did it.

When I pulled away, I opened my eyes and searched her face for some sign. For any sign. At first, her expression was just one of shock. Her eyeballs were pretty much bugging out of her head. But then she smiled. It was a smile that I hadn't seen yet from her. And it made my heart thump. So I kissed her again.

And she kissed me back.

We went back to our apartment and for once, I was the girl she was taking into her bedroom and into her bed.

It became a regular thing. We would go out for drinks, get wasted, and come back to our apartment to have sex. I tried to be detached from it all. But for somebody who really just discovered her inner-being, it was something I couldn't be detached from. They say you never forget your first, and they're right. She was my first on the other side.

I didn't tell her about my feelings. I thought if that was all I could get, then I would rather have that than nothing at all. We kept it up for months. We didn't talk about what we were doing. We acted like it didn't happen during the daytime. We still had our conversations and our junk food, but when we went out, it was a whole nother story. My feelings deepened, but I still kept them to myself even though sometimes I felt like they would suffocate me.

Emma stopped bringing girls home, and the naïve part of me wondered if I had changed her. I wondered if we were in a relationship, but never brought myself to ask her. We had fun, and I think that's all she cared about.

We both graduated—me with my biology degree and Emma with her literature degree. I had been accepted into a masters program in another city and it was starting soon, so I had to move there directly. It was almost half a day's drive away from our college. I still remember the night before I moved out of the apartment. We went out to a bar after I had packed everything. I drank until I couldn't anymore. We made it home and we fell into her bed. After we were finished, Emma fell asleep quickly. But I felt like I had sobered up all of a sudden. I left her bed and I sat on the couch in the living room.

I sat there until the sun rose. Should I tell her? What was the point of telling her anyway? Emma was taking a year off after college. She was planning to go abroad to teach English. Even if she didn't, I was still going to be far away from her. I was convinced that long-distance relationships didn't work. I sat there going back and forth until I thought my mind had turned into scrambled mush.

Emma came out of her room in the morning, her hair messed up as usual and that's when my heart broke. The words came spilling out of my mouth and the tears came spilling out of my eyes. I told her everything—that I had fallen for her a long time ago. That I couldn't do the detached sleeping together thing. Her face went from sleepily confused to one of great concern.

After handing me tissues and waiting for me to bring my sobs under control, she told me seriously that she had been trying to avoid this conversation. That's why she never talked about what we did. She liked things the way they had been. She didn't do the relationship thing. She cared for me.

The usual relationship break-up bs talk.

It was so stupid. How could we have had that conversation even though we hadn't been in a relationship?

I begged with her. Even though I knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work, I couldn't imagine being without her. Being without her suddenly seemed terrifying. I didn't think I could function without her around.

But she just shook her head. Then she got up from the couch and picked up one of my boxes.

"We should probably load this stuff up. This could take awhile. You should bring your car around," she told me flatly.

And that was that. We loaded my stuff. She gave me a hug after the last box was crammed in and told me to knock 'em dead. She hugged me, but I didn't hug her back. I was too shell-shocked, like all the wind had been punched out of me.

I had made a fool out of myself all for nothing. It would've been better if I had said nothing. As I drove away, I took a glance at the rear-view mirror. I could barely make out her shape through all the tears and puffy eyes, but I think she had already been walking away.

After that, I couldn't function for a long time. I moved into my own apartment near the campus of my masters program. I threw myself into my studies. Emma didn't call me and I didn't call her. Sometimes I would wonder if I could ever get over her. It wasn't a long time later until I felt comfortable going out to bars again. Until I could date. Even then, I was a lot more careful. I refused to let my feelings run away again.

It wasn't until I was in medical school that she finally sent me an email, asking me what I was up to. She told me about her life and her travels. She told me she travelled across Europe and into Asia. She told me she had a present for me and wanted to know where to send it.

Although I was shocked by her sudden return to my life, I replied to her email. I gave her my address and a package showed up at my front step a week later. It was two mugs—one of Mozart and one of Beethoven. I couldn't believe she had thought of me when she travelled.

We emailed periodically and she asked to meet up in person. I didn't find time until I had completed my residency because I was still in an area quite a distance from where she lived. When we did finally meet for coffee, I realized that I couldn't keep a friendship with her. I tried not to be petty, but the feelings and the pain was just too deep. I was over her, but the remnants were still there.

I got a job working for the police force shortly after our meeting, and the work kept me busy enough to tell Emma that I didn't have time to meet with her. She told me she understood, and we kept in touch every now and then. But I couldn't bring myself to see her again, until the other day at mini-golf. That was an accident.

She was the first. The real first. And those hurt.

* * *

A/N: Whew, that was long. So I debated A LOT about how to tell Holly's story with Emma. I couldn't decide whether to keep Gail's POV and have her just listen to Holly's story, or switch. But I decided to switch to Holly's POV because it was just a lot easier to tell the story that way, rather than have some long long long paragraphs of just Holly talking. Hope it's not too confusing. Also, I decided not to put Holly's POV/flashback in italics, because it was just too long and I hate when I read a story with a HUGE chunk of italics. So no italics. Let me know what you think :)

Have a happy new year you guys!


	12. Chapter 12

I'm processing.

I'm still processing.

I think the only thing I've said in response to Holly's story is: "Oh." I'm not sure what to say. I don't know if there's anything to say. No words have left either of our mouths in the past 5 minutes. My body feels so tight I feel like I'm going to snap like a rubber band.

We're both sitting on her couch, facing her tv—silent. In our own worlds. I asked and she told me. So I shouldn't be upset right? No, this feeling isn't being upset. I'm not sure what it is. But I think Holly just told me that she may still have feelings for Emma. She could have feelings for somebody else that _isn't me_. And that's the part I have a problem with. How fucked up is it that she has feelings for somebody else while we're dating or whatever the hell it is we are doing?

Isn't this a repeat of the Nick fiasco? Isn't it?

But it's not. She actually told me about it. So it's not.

I stand up abruptly and the motion shocks Holly back into reality. She gives her head a violent shake and focuses on me. I clench and unclench my fists. And clench them again.

I want to leave. I want to storm right out that door. But instead I turn around and look at her. She's looking up at me like she's pleading with me. She's pleading with me not to leave. She doesn't say a word but I know what she's telling me.

She's right. I can't leave. I literally got what I asked for.

I sit back down on the couch.

"Gail?"

I take a second to make sure my voice isn't wavering. "Yeah," I manage to squeeze out.

"That's all you're gonna say? Oh?"

"No."

"Am I going to get anything else besides one word answers?" she tries to manage a joking tone, but it just comes out as shaky.

"Maybe."

Silence.

I look at her coffee table and I realize that the very two mugs sitting there are the ones that _she_ gave her. And she kept them. She kept them? She kept them. Why would she do that? If Nick gave me any mugs, I probably would have chucked them through his windows.

We're different. We're the same, but we're different.

We're the same because somebody left her. And people are experts at leaving me. We're the same because she's been broken. And I can say with definite assurance that I have experience in that matter. Some days I'm pretty sure that I still don't have all the pieces back together. But then I met Holly and for the first time in a really long time, I didn't feel broken.

But we're different.

We're different because Holly hasn't moved on. Right? Why does this whole situation seem oddly familiar? Almost like a paradox. It's the same, but it's not.

"So…" I try to pry my mouth open so I can talk. My jaw feels like its glued shut. "You…you're still into her or what?"

"No."

Now who's the one giving one word answers?

"Then why are you so…so hung up about her?"

"She was the first."

"Was. Shouldn't the key word be 'was' in that sentence?"

"No. The key word is 'first'. She was the _first_."

"Does she feel the same way? Does she still like you?"

"I think it's clear that she never 'liked' me in the first place, Gail. She just used me…for physical activities."

The image of Holly and Emma in bed flashes into my mind and I resist an overwhelming urge to scream and yell. And throw something.

"What do you want me to say?" I implore her. I don't know what I'm supposed to say. Am I supposed to give her advice? Give her an ultimatum? Emma or me? I still can't look at her.

"I don't know. You asked. I answered. You can say whatever you want to say," Holly's voice is tired, like she doesn't want to fight or argue.

"Do you still want to do…this?" Me and Holly.

"Yes."

"But…"

"But nothing. That was the story behind Emma and I."

"But you're still hanging onto her!" I spit out, but immediately regret it. I didn't mean to sound so accusing. Breathe. "But you still can't see her. You said you didn't want to see her. That means there's something still there, right?"

"I don't know. I think it just means she scarred me so bad that I don't want to see her again. I mean…would you ever want to be buddy-buddy with Nick again?"

No. No, I wouldn't. But that doesn't mean I still have feelings for him right? Maybe Holly's got a good point.

"But I'm friends with Chris."

"I think…I think the deeper the feelings are, the more it hurts afterwards. So maybe with Chris, it wasn't as deep as it was with Nick."

I pause to reflect. Is she right? How did this turn into about me? This is about Holly. This can't go on, I realize. She can't hide in her hole forever. She can't hide because that _doesn't work_.

"You need to tell her," I decide.

"What do you mean tell her?"

I finally turn to Holly for the first time since she's told me the story and look her squarely in the eye.

"You need to tell her what she did to you."

"Oh please, Gail. Don't give me the 'you have to communicate' bull. You, of all people, should not be giving me this lecture," Holly rolls her eyes.

And she's right. But she's wrong. She's talking about a past me. Holly's made me try to communicate right? I'm here. I'm communicating now. So she needs to communicate too.

"But I'm communicating with you right now. And I'm going to tell you right now. I. Am. Not. Happy. I'm not happy about your history with Emma."

Holly's eyes widen. I don't think she expected me to be so honest. But I decided I was going to do this right. And this is doing things right.

"You help me change. You make me want to try. So this is me trying. So you have to try too, Holly."

"What's the point of telling her anyway? It happened a long time ago. Water under the bridge and all that." Holly brushes her hair out of her face and tucks her feet underneath her. She unconsciously makes herself smaller, almost as a defensive reaction.

"Clearly it's not. It's not if it makes you upset like this."

God, when did I turn into Dr. Phil? I think I'm the one that people usually try to counsel. But seeing Holly all sorts of messed up because of Emma, it's obvious she has some shit to work through. And I want her to work through it before we continue trying down this path. What's the point of trying to walk down a path if a giantass tree is blocking the path? You can try to cross it, but even if you do end up crossing it, you're going to end up with all these scratches and scars and it'll be messy. And it'll hurt.

So wouldn't it better to try to remove the tree from the path altogether?

"Let's say I talk to her. What would I even say?"

I shrug. I didn't think that far. "Up to you. But I don't think keeping it inside you is helping. I mean it's been how long? 7 years? 8 years?" I don't know how long medical school and residency lasts.

"Well, blurting out my emotions the last time certainly turned out so well the last time," Holly replies sardonically. "I felt so much better afterwards." I feel like we've switched places. Aren't I usually the one with the sarcastic responses? This must be what it's like to deal with me all the time.

"It's different this time."

"Really. And you would know this how?" Holly looks at me over her glasses—giving me the teacher lookdown again.

"You're older. You're wiser. You're more mature. Time's passed. It's different."

"It's different," Holly repeats thoughtfully.

"It's different." I affirm. And finally, I feel comfortable enough to scoot next to Holly and grab her hand. I slip my fingers through hers and I feel connected. I feel like I've just been plugged into my outlet. Her hand is limp at first, but then she squeezes my hand really tight. So tight, ouch.

"You really think so?"

"Yeah."

"Back to the one word responses?"

"Yeah," I say, just to piss her off.

Holly laughs and my body unwinds. But only slightly.

Then she sobers up and lays her head on my shoulder. I think physical contact makes us both feel better. Like this isn't really happening. Or rather, that it is. But it's okay because we're together. And we'll get through it together.

"What if she replies…in a way I don't expect? Or in a way that you don't expect?"

I try to decipher her words. "Are you trying to ask what would happen if she…wants to get together with you?"

Silence. Yeah, that's what she's trying to say.

"Would you? Would you want to be with her?" It takes me almost everything to get those words out because I'm not sure if I want to know the answer.

Silence.

She's actually considering it. Suddenly Holly's head feels like an anchor and it's drowning me. It's not keeping me safe anymore, it's pulling me down. I'm about to pull away when I feel Holly inhale.

"No."

No? Then why did her answer take so damn long?

"I think."

She _thinks_? Oh god. I'm breaking. I can feel it. I can feel myself shattering. What am I supposed to say now? What am I supposed to do? What can I do? Sit here like a fool, while she's thinking about somebody else? Gail Peck, you're an absolute fool.

I tense up and I know Holly can feel it.

"I don't think she'll want to. So it doesn't matter," she says sadly.

My first instinct is that I want to comfort her. I hate hearing the note of defeat in her voice. But then I realize: she's wrong. It matters. The fact that she even has to think about that answer…that's what matters. It means she's not 100% in this. I'm 100% in this, aren't I?

No. No, I'm not.

I think I've been holding off 10% of myself. Maybe 15. You might think it's horrible of me, but it's better than the 40% I held off from Nick or the 50% I held off from Chris.

We can't both be 100% in this from the start. Nobody is 100% into a relationship when you first meet. That's just idiotic. That only happens in sappy love stories that I'm sure McNally reads on her spare time. This is not a sappy love story. Holly is one of a kind and I feel things that I've never felt before with her, but this is still real life.

So it's okay. It's okay that she's still holding herself off. Because I am. But I hope that she's given as much as I have. And I think she has. Because she's here. She's here and she's talking to me and I'm talking to her. So it'll be okay.

If Emma-whatever-her-last-name-is wants Holly, well too bad. She's going to have to get through me first.

I squeeze her hand. Harder than she squeezed mine. I let her know that she is mine. I already made my mistake. I already broke her before. I'm not going to do it again. And I'm not going to let somebody else break her.

* * *

A/N: Wow you guys. I was blown away by the response to the last chapter. I really wanted to give Holly a backstory and some development because I feel like we pretty much know nothing about her at this point. And I feel like everybody has a story like that in their background. And those stories hurt.


	13. Chapter 13

After our conversation, I force Holly to email Emma. She protests a bit, but it's a half-assed protest. After her feeble attempts at typing an email, I usher her out of her chair and plant myself in her place. I write the email for her, asking Emma when she is free for some coffee to "catch up". I know that I'm doing the right thing. I know that Holly needs to resolve this and have closure with Emma. But I just hope I won't regret this decision later.

I want Holly to be 100% mine and she can't be that if she doesn't do this. So I'm going to make her do this.

We send the email and Holly is just about as white as a sheet. She's almost as pale as I am. Her breathing actually shallows, and her nervousness is very much palpable.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Relax. She hasn't even responded yet. One step at a time," I reply, spinning around her swivel computer chair.

She exhales a shaky breath, not moving from her position standing next to the desk. I don't think I've ever seen her unnerved like this. Sure, she was panicky when she came down to the station that one time, but this is different. Last time, she just kept word vomiting. But this…this situation seems to be undoing her very persona.

"You must think I'm pathetic, ugh." Holly unfreezes and goes back to her couch, throwing herself horizontally on it. She grabs a pillow and covers her face with it.

"You're gonna suffocate if you don't move that. I don't want to have to resuscitate you," I tell her sarcastically, rolling over to her couch and placing my arms on the back, watching her.

"Do you?" She moves the pillow aside and talks to the ceiling.

"Do I what?"

"Think I'm pathetic. It's been such a long time, but I'm still scared to see her. Even I think it's ridiculous. I hate myself for it. We didn't even have a real relationship. We didn't go on dates. We didn't have a commitment to each other. But…" she trails off.

"No. You're not." Unlike her response previously, I give mine right away. I don't think she's pathetic at all. I think I understand what she is feeling.

I think back to the time when Nick and I had been so young and so stupidly crazy about each other. I don't think we were in a real relationship either before. But there we were about to be married. Then he just left. He left without a single word to me.

The silence and pain he left me with are incomparable to anything else that I had felt up to that point in my life. Then he reappeared magically years later in the place I least expected to run into him.

Yes, years had passed. Yes, we had grown up. But you know what? The moment I saw him, those memories came rushing back like a flood. I didn't want him there. I wanted to shut him out. Because he left me hanging all those years ago.

I never got the chance to tell him how badly he hurt me. Honestly, I don't know if I would have if he had given me the chance all those years ago. I don't know if I was ready at that point.

But he certainly got the hint when he reappeared at 15. That idiot seemed to think us about to get married was no big deal, but it was a big deal. And because there was no closure, look how well that relationship worked out. It didn't.

We tried again, because I was dumb enough to think it would work out differently this time. That he wouldn't leave me again. If only I had figured it out the first time.

I won't pretend like I did nothing wrong in the relationship. Yes, I slept with Blackstone. But I don't think that's when the relationship ended. Our relationship was on a one way trip to breakup hell as soon as Nick joined that undercover assignment. As soon as he started falling for McNally.

You can accuse me of being shut off and emotionally closed off all you want, but if you ask me, I think I did a pretty damn good job of telling McNally that she fucked up. Knowing that she and Nick slept together was more than enough closure for me.

Maybe because the Nick door didn't close all the way the first time, it was able to swing open again. But him and McNally made sure that door slammed shut and stayed locked shut. With at least 100 locks and bolts. And that's that for me. I told her. I told him. My job is done. The door is shut.

But Holly…she hasn't closed her Emma door. So I understand. It's not pitiful. It's just the way life is.

We hear a "bing!" sound from her laptop that cuts through the air. Holly pops her head up to glance over at the desk.

"Oh god, is that her?"

I roll back to check the screen. "Yeah. She said she's good for tonight. Or tomorrow, she says, if you have plans tonight."

"I can't do this."

"Holly."

She must sense my change of tone, so she sits up and looks over at me, waiting.

"Listen…I'm not going to give you an ultimatum," I say slowly, looking down at my hands.

I so want to be next to her right now, but I won't be able to think clearly if I'm too close. And at least one of us needs to be thinking clearly.

"None of that me or her shit. I'm not telling you that you have to choose me or her. I'm going to be here, regardless. But you have to go through with this. I want you to be free from this mess. I've tried to leave my mess behind and now it's your turn. I want you to close this chapter of your life so you can move onto the next one—the one with me," I finish, looking up at her.

Holly surveys my face. She searches my eyes, though for what, I'm not sure. Maybe for my intentions? My only intention is to help her so we can move on together.

Or is she checking to see if I'm being honest?

But whatever she found, I guess she's satisfied with the answer because she slowly nods her head. Her jaw is set and she looks like she's ready to battle now.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. I must be in a pretty dark hole if you're the one trying to pull me out. I'll do this. We'll do this. Man, they never teach you how to deal with this stuff in school. All those years of school, wasted."

"Definitely not wasted. If you hadn't gone to school and gotten your medical degree, you never would've gotten a job at the lab. And then you wouldn't have been able to teach me about medical jurisprudence."

She laughs shortly, and the air's slightly lighter. We fall into another silence.

"You should call her. Just call her and get it over with."

She nods. I feel like a counselor.

"Here." I grab her phone from the desk and shove it into her hands. "Call."

Holly thumbs through her phone contacts before finding Emma's name. She presses dial and turns away from me. A little part in the back of my head keeps nagging at me. What if Holly decides to leave me too? What if she decides to try things with Emma? I slap the thoughts away. I'm not going to back out of this. I already pushed Holly this far, it's not fair to pull her back.

I leave to go to the bathroom so Holly can talk to Emma in private. I don't really want to hear their conversation anyway. I wash my face and I stare at myself in the mirror.

I look the same. Same eyes. Same hair. Same dead expression. But I feel different. I feel…older. I've never been on this side of a relationship before. I'm always the one being taken care of. Holly and I aren't even in any kind of committed relationship, but I feel like I've already played both parts of the relationship. I was the one who ran away first and made things fall apart. But now…I think I'm the one holding things together. Is that too egotistic of me to think that way? Whatever.

I think I've given them enough time for them to arrange a meetup, so I head back out to the living room. Holly's still sitting in the same place, staring at the phone in her hands. She doesn't look up as I approach her, so I take a seat next to her with a plop.

I put my feet up on her coffee table.

"Wellllll?" I drawl out.

"We're going to meet in an hour. I think." Holly sounds dazed. She seemed like she had it together before the phone call, but I guess talking to Emma threw her off again. Her voice is distracted. It almost feels like she's not even in the room with me.

For the hundredth time since I came up with the idea, I wonder if it is a good one.

"You think?"

"She said 9. What time is it?"

I glance at my watch. "8:15."

Holly jumps out of her seat and the motion throws me off balance. "I gotta go! She wants to meet somewhere else and it takes 30 minutes to get there from my place."

She scurries to her room without another word, undoubtedly to change. I get up from the couch and walk around the apartment. I think the old me may have felt ignored by Holly's preoccupation with her…meeting with Emma. Actually I think I probably would have walked out the door a long time ago, just from the mention of an ex.

But right now, I'm just her friend. I'm not her girlfriend, I'm not her partner. I'm her support and anchor. Being in a relationship means you have to play all parts right? Friend, counselor…lover.

I notice the two mugs that Holly always uses sitting on her kitchen counter. I pick them up and turn them over in my hands. I really wonder why Holly kept them. I suppose I could spend the rest of the night wondering and questioning, but maybe it doesn't really matter.

People do things for absolutely no concrete reason sometimes. Maybe Holly doesn't even know why she kept it.

I hear footsteps behind me, and Holly emerges from her bedroom doorway. She's dressed like she dresses for our morning coffees. She's wearing a black long peacoat that reaches her knees, along with a beanie with one of those fluffy bunny tails at the end. She's wearing that scarf that's not too colorful, but just colorful enough.

I would've thought that she was meeting me for coffee if it had been light outside. But it's dark and I'm not the one she's meeting.

"Is this okay? This is okay, right?"

"Holly, it's fine. You look great. You look really good. You need to stop obsessing. Just go."

Her hands go from adjusting her scarf to adjusting her beanie and then she shoves them in her coat pockets, as if to stop herself from fidgeting some more.

"Okay." She stands there, rocking on her toes, but she doesn't move from her spot. Instead, she contemplates me again.

"...what?"

"Are you going to be okay?"

A rush of feelings swoops in on me. I'm glad she still remembers that I'm still here and that she's still thinking about me amidst all this.

"Yeah. I'm fine." It's not a lie. I think I'll be fine.

"Do you need a ride home?" Holly sneaks a peek at the clock on the wall. I don't think she has time to take me home, but the fact she asked speaks for itself.

"No. I'll walk home. It's fine. Could use the air anyway."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll see you later."

Together, we walk out the door. Holly slowly locks the door behind us and stops again in the hallway.

With a sigh I ask, "what now?"

"Thanks." She shrugs at me, twisting her mouth up. It looks like she's not done saying all she needs to say. But this isn't the time to have this conversation. She's going to need all her brainpower for her conversation with Emma.

I hold my hand to stop her words. "We'll talk later." And I lean in and I kiss her, because I can't stop myself. Just one last kiss. No, it's not a last kiss. It's a good luck kiss.

Holly smiles against my lips. "Talk to you later," she repeats in a whisper. As I watch her walk to her car, her walk is hesitant. Her steps are slow and tentative as she approaches her car, and I wonder again if she can do this.

I just hope for both our sakes that she can.

* * *

Okay, this seemed like a good idea 3 hours ago, but now I'm sitting on the couch in my apartment, internally freaking out. I've been playing Dov's videogames since I got home, just to take my mind off of things.

I almost want to walk to the Penny to join Dov and Chris, but I know that if I start drinking, I probably won't stop until I'm blacked out. And that's not what Holly needs. Nor is it what I need.

I think right before she left, Holly tried to put on a brave face for me. She seemed like she had calmed down, but I could still sense her uneasiness. Her hesitance. Her vulnerability. Just like mine.

I wanted to do the right thing and help Holly move on. But the doubt slowly crept in. It threatened to eat me up from the inside and destroy me. So I shoot stuff and I blow up stuff in an effort to stop it.

I'm right in the middle of blowing up an alien ship when I hear the doorbell ring. Frustrated, I pause the game and drag myself off the couch. Those assholes must've forgotten their keys. Or they're too drunk to open the door.

I swing the door open without checking the peephole.

"Holly!" I say in surprise.

"Hey."

Holly bits her lips and smiles gently as she waves at me. What's with both of us and waving at the door? We're clearly rubbing off on each other.

"Uh, come in I guess." I try to play it cool. Like I haven't been blowing up buildings and tanks for the past couple hours in frustration as the overwhelming uncertainty seeped into my body. Nope, not at all.

Stepping in, she takes off her coat and places it on the rack by the door. She surveys the living area.

"Nice place," she remarks. And I realize that she's never really been inside my apartment.

"If you're wondering about the smell, that's all Chris."

Holly smiles and shakes her head. I try not to stare at her, to see if I can read her mind and read the words that she's not saying.

I lean against the living room doorway and watch as Holly makes her way around the living area and kitchen, touching things as she goes. She goes slowly as she observes.

When she finishes her round, she comes back to stand right in front of me. So close that she's basically invading my personal space. Which I'm only okay with because it's Holly doing the invading.

She takes me by the hands.

"Thanks," she tells me.

"For what?" I gulp.

"For not asking right away what happened."

I nod mutely. Because I want to ask. But I don't. Not yet, anyway.

Still holding my hand, Holly leads me down the hallway to my bedroom. How she knows which one is mine, I'll never know.

Thank god I made my bed this morning.

"Can we just...lie down?" she asks gently.

Nodding silently again, I clamber into bed at the same time as she does. We face each other, about an arm's length apart and she searches my eyes, like she's looking for answers again.

I search her eyes for her answers. I don't think I've picked up on her ability to read minds yet though because I can't find anything.

"Hold me."

Even though it's worded like a command, it sounds like a request.

I nod in silent agreement. I feel like a bobblehead at this point. Holly turns around to face the other direction and I scoot in behind her cautiously. I'm not sure if she's still broken or if she shut the door or whatever third option she took, but she's here, and that's all that matters to me right now.

I wrap my arm slowly around her waist and breathe in the very scent that is Holly. Her hair falls in curls on my pillow, and her neck is exposed. I resist my natural instinct to place my lips on that space and remind myself to keep breathing. She's here. She's mine.

Holly breaks the silence first. "She never did this, you know."

I don't reply because there's nothing to say to that statement. No explanation is necessary, no reply is necessary.

"She never held me. When we finished, we just slept. On opposite sides."

Holly turns around again to face me. Her legs intertwine with mine as she scoots in even closer. Even fully clothed, I already feel more anxious than I've ever felt in bed with anybody else. My heart's thumping and I'm short on breath, like something is squeezing my lungs.

I can feel her breath on my skin and her hands reach up slowly to touch my cheek. My chin. My lips. Her touch is feathery, and not really there. But it's there.

Then she leans in slowly and her eyes flutter shut. Following her cue, I shut mine tightly. As she kisses me, it's slow, almost like molasses. It's warm, like the start of a fire.

It's not furious or fast-paced like when I forced kisses on her before. It's gentle and it's not rushed. Time slows down.

She continues her kisses to every part of my body she can reach. Before I know it, I'm on my back and she's hovering over me. Her body blocks out every other image from my sight except her.

Clothes shed themselves as she continues her exploration. She explores and she devours me. She's an explorer and I'm her territory. She's a sculptor and I'm her clay. I'm free falling, falling so deep and so fast that I can't remember anything—I feel only her and I know only her.

There is nothing else that matters. There is nobody else. Just Holly as she consumes me and brings me to places that I've never been. The heat that we create feels like it will burn everything. It burns all the doubt that had taken up space in my body.

When the fire burns down to a few embers and the heat slowly dissipates, I can feel myself drifting away to sleep. I can't help myself. The questions I had will have to wait until later. I bring Holly close to me as I lie on my back. She positions her head so it lies on my shoulder and entwines her legs within mine again, so we are touching everywhere.

I drift away into sleep, but in that moment, that strange moment when you're almost asleep but not quite yet, I can hear Holly's voice in my ear. She says something, and even though I can barely make out the words, they are there nonetheless.

"I choose you."

* * *

A/N: Okay yes, this chapter took a lot longer than normal, sorry! Work got crazy after the holidays. That and I had to keep thinking about how I wanted this to go. But it's here now. Thank you all for your wonderful support and reviews so far. To be continued.


	14. Chapter 14

When my eyes open the first thing I'm aware of is the sound of breathing. Breathing very close to my ear. The second thing I'm aware of is warmth—warmth from another body. A naked body, to be exact. I don't think I've ever woken up in a cuddling position before. Usually during the night, I tend to slip away from my partner in bed.

I turn my head slightly and slowly, as not to wake her up. She's still sleeping, her head tucked on my shoulder. It's amazing that neither of us shifted from our positions last night.

I marvel at how deliciously naked she must be under the sheet. Her hair falls everywhere around her face and the pillow. Her mouth pouts slightly as she breathes in and out slowly. A flashback of last night's events comes to mind and I involuntarily tighten my hold around her. She's here. She's mine.

Holly shifts her legs slightly and mumbles something, but doesn't wake up. She looks so adorable while sleeping that I can't help myself but give her a kiss on the forehead. Still nothing. And I remember that she's kind of a heavy sleeper.

I slip quietly out of bed and throw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt. Thank god it's the weekend so neither of us has to work today. But I've never been able to sleep in anyway. My body sort of just naturally wakes up in the morning anyway.

I leave the room and start a pot of coffee in the kitchen. I notice Chris passed out very ungracefully on the couch and roll my eyes. I guess he was too drunk to make it to his bed last night.

When the coffee's done, I pour two cups and bring it back to my room. She's still sleeping peacefully, with her hands tucked under her face. I shake my hand in amazement. But this coffee should do it, if I remember correctly.

I place a cup right on the dresser next to the bed and wait for the coffee smell to permeate the room. After a minute, her nose wrinkles and she cracks open one eye. I think she's more addicted to coffee than I am.

Her head pops up from the pillow, and she adjusts herself into a sitting position as she rubs her eyes. The blanket falls away, revealing more of her body. I try not to stare. I don't think she's even realized that I'm in the room.

"Hey," I tell her.

She jumps slightly. For such a self-assured doctor, she sure scares easily. Maybe it's because all she does is work with dead bodies, and I'm sure they're pretty quiet and not at all surprising.

Her sleepy eyes focus on me and she smiles at me. A small one, one where only the corners of her lips turn up.

"Good morning," she says in greeting. Then she looks down and frowns as she realizes she's still naked.

"Here," I say, tossing her one of my sweatshirts, even though I would rather her not be wearing anything at all.

Holly slips on the sweatshirt and it looks almost comical on her. It's a college sweatshirt I've had for almost a decade with rags and tears all around the sleeves and collars. But she looks good wearing it.

"Is that for me?" she points to the coffee on the dresser.

"Yup, help yourself," I say, sipping from my own.

"Yum."

Holly grabs the cup eagerly and sits up straight to drink it. After smacking her lips, she judges the coffee.

"Not bad Peck."

"Thanks for the approval," I reply, lifting my cup to her in a mock toast.

After a couple minutes of her sitting in my bed drinking coffee and me standing by the door drinking coffee, she pats the spot on the bed next to her.

"You gonna come back?"

I wordlessly crawl back into the bed, carefully holding my mug so the coffee doesn't spill onto the bedspread. We sit next to each other against the headboard silently.

The brash confidence she showed me last night as she took me to uncharted territories is nowhere in the room. Instead she is contemplative, reflective. We both are. I bite my lip to try to keep the words from coming out. I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'll end up interrogating her about last night like a suspect.

So I wait for her to break the silence. I don't have to wait very long before she does.

"She's still the same."

"Huh?" Not exactly the words I was expecting.

Holly continues on without further explanation. "We just talked about regular stuff at first. Catch up time, you know? It was almost like old times again. Then she asked me if I was seeing anybody."

I gulped. "And what did you say?"

Holly looked sideways at me. "I told her yes."

"Oh."

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah," I say. And I want to smile like an idiot. I want to giggle like a schoolgirl. I want to go around the neighborhood tossing rainbows and candy everywhere. Even though it was obvious to me that we were clearly more than friends, it's another thing to actually hear her admit it out loud. But I keep my cool because that's what I do.

"She didn't really react," Holly muses. "But then she started talking about the old times. About the 'fun times' we used to have." Her voice has changed. It's bitter now.

"I was probably one step away from yelling at her, I think. But then she asked me the stupidest question in the world."

"What?"

"She asked me if I wanted to go get a drink."

I mull over it for a couple seconds. "Why is that stupid?"

"She used to ask me that before we had our 'fun times'. That was our signal line to each other to...you know."

I know.

"And I realized...she hasn't changed at all. Eight years later, and she's still just looking for a hookup. Even knowing that I was seeing somebody, she tried. I think...that...was it for me. That was it. That's the line. Maybe that was the slap in the face that I needed. I've wasted so much time and energy on her. Pining. Being an idiot."

I nod. Then I shake my head. "No. Not an idiot. That's...just sometimes the way life works out. We live. And we learn."

Holly nods silently, agreeing with the sentiment.

"So I left. I think I'm okay. I think we're okay. I wonder if it's because we were already such different people when we were younger and I just couldn't see it...or if it's because I've become a different person since then," Holly shrugs and drinks more coffee. I think she's thinking out loud now, more so than explaining to me.

I hesitate. I shuffle around on top of the sheets, staring at my toes. I want more than anything to just believe that she's had a change of heart. But, really, how do you realize something like that in one night? How do you change your entire perception in one night?

Holly must sense it. She eyes my feet fumbling around on the bed and I still them immediately, like I've been caught doing something wrong. She places her mug on the dresser next to her. She plucks mine out of my hands and does the same. The next thing I know, I find my hands enclosed in hers.

Her voice is mild as she says my name. I reluctantly turn to her.

"I know that it seems like a stretch. I know you don't believe that somebody can change that quickly. And I don't think there's anything that I can say that will convince you. But I hope that you'll just see it for yourself over time. I promise not to hide anything from you. If, in the future, and I'm not saying that this will happen, if…she ever pops up again on my emotional radar, I will tell you. And I hope you will listen to me. Because that's what we do right? We tell each other things," Holly says it all in one giant breath without stopping. Somehow I manage to keep track of it all.

"Yup."

"So we're good?"

Without giving her a response, I dive into the sheets. I wrench them over my head and burrow into the mattress. The second after I do this, I immediately berate myself. I must look like I'm running away. Or like I'm hiding. But I do this so I can't see Holly. I grip the sheets tight to keep my hands occupied. I take deep breaths to control my breathing.

I want to look at her until the end of time. I want to touch her until I can't anymore. I want to mark her as mine. But I don't want to scare her away. I think this is when we are really starting our relationship. What will she think if I just suddenly attack her?

"Gail? Are you okay? Are we good?" Holly's voice comes from somewhere outside the fortress I've created.

Damn it. I have to answer her, otherwise she'll get the wrong idea.

"Yeah. We're good."

There's no response and I wonder if she believes me. There's no motions, no noise. I almost consider the possibility if she's just vanished from my bed. I clench my teeth together. The urge to mark her is almost primal. It scares me.

"Gail, if you want me to go, I can go."

Yeah, she's getting the wrong idea. She doesn't deserve this. I throw the sheets off and in one quick motion, maneuver Holly so she is on her back and I am straddling her waist.

Her eyes are in shock, her hands up in a defensive motion. We look at each other for a few intense moments. I say nothing and she says nothing. But we're saying everything. She waits for me. Then I give in.

I give into my instinct and lean in. She expects a kiss, but I go for her neck instead. I suck and I bite and I do everything that I can there. The noises that she makes are indescribable. I never knew it could feel like this. I never knew it could feel like this to give somebody pleasure. Those breaths that she gasps, those whimpers that involuntarily escapes from her lips.

Music to my ears.

When I finish one area, I start in another. She tangles her hands in my hair and pulls me closer. In between the breaths and in between the gasps, I can hear her struggling to get words out.

"You're…you're going to…leave marks."

"That's the point," I growl, stopping my assault on her neck momentarily.

She acquiesces and lets me continue. I hope she understands that I need to do this. I need to do this so I can confirm to myself that she is mine. So that she knows she is mine. So the whole damn world knows that she is mine.

It's like a mantra in my head.

She is mine.

* * *

"Hey! Gail!"

A knock on my bedroom door interrupts us sometime later. I have no idea how much time has passed. I jump out of the bed and search desperately for my clothes. I don't want anybody walking in on the two of us in bed. That's just way too awkward and too close for me. I hate the idea of somebody else being near me while I'm so exposed. I find my sweatshirt and throw it at Holly.

"It's Dov," I mutter to Holly as she pulls on my sweatshirt again. She grins and gestures for me to open the door as she remains in bed, her lower half covered by the sheets.

I jerk the door open after haphazardly pulling on some pants.

"What Dov?" I snarl. This better be good for interrupting what we were in the middle of.

Dov peers around my shoulder and sees Holly. A stupid smile covers his face and he looks at me knowingly. Out of Holly's sightline, he gives me a thumb's up. I choose to ignore the look and his gesture and give him the stink eye to make him say whatever he's going to say.

"We're celebrating Chloe's return to 15 tonight. We're gonna hit up the Penny. Do you…guys wanna come?"

I glance back at Holly, who shrugs at me. I take that as a positive and agree to meet the rest of the gang there. I wave Dov away and he makes me promise to be there later before leaving us in peace.

Holly clears her throat as I close the door and turn back to her.

"So am I part of the official 15 crew now?"

"What do you mean?" I say stupidly in response. I think all our morning activities has rotted my brain.

She laughs at me. One of her loud laughs, one that I can feel inside. We spend the rest of the day watching movies in bed and talking and sharing and eating. It feels really right. I don't feel the need to run away. I don't feel the need to make some excuse to kick her out.

As we finally get dressed for the evening, I can feel a glow within me. It feels like Holly lit a fire in me and it can't be extinguished. It's burning brightly and I've never felt more satisfied in my life. I've finally been able to capture her as my own. And I am hers.

"Where's my scarf? I need it," Holly proclaims as she wanders the room collecting her clothes, pulling them on as she goes.

"Why?"

Really, I don't think my brain is working at all. But I find her scarf on the ground by my shoes and hand it to her.

Holly checks herself in the mirror hanging on the back of my door. Her hands come up and I watch as she touches each of the marks I made earlier. I want to swell up like a balloon in pride. I come to stand behind her.

"Sorry," I tell her, really trying to be.

"No, you're not," she replies cheekily.

"No, I'm not."

She swats at me and hands me the scarf back. I wrap it around her neck, placing it strategically so everything is covered. I fight the itch to reveal one or two of them. I respect her decision to cover them…for now. Appearances and all that, I guess.

At the Penny, I fight through the crowd with Holly, greeting people as I go. I keep my hand tightly in hers so I don't lose her. I see Chloe sitting at a table by Dov, drinks everywhere on the table. She's talking and chattering to Dov, and he's looking at her like he could listen to her forever.

I lean in and interrupt. "Welcome back, Price. Missed you."

"Aw, really? I knew you were a softie!"

"Yeah, I really missed that incessant voice by my ear, just gabbing away. It got too quiet."

Dov shoots me a dirty look. He doesn't get it. This is how Chloe and I interact.

Chloe evidently understands and she beams up at me happily. "It'll be good to be back. Thanks, Gail."

Holly leans in from behind me. "Congratulations on returning to the force, Officer Price."

"Thanks. Holly right? You're the forensic pathologist? How is that? I've always thought that if I didn't become a police officer I could become a doctor. Or a forensic pathologist. Do you really work with dead bodies like every day? Is it scary? I would think it's pretty scary. Do you get to see everything inside?" Chloe's voice goes on and on.

And everything is back to normal. I take a seat at the table and grab one of the many drinks that Chloe's accumulated from all the other officers. Holly seems to enjoy Chloe's questions and chatter as she answers them happily.

I should find the fact that Holly fit so easily into our circle frightening. But it's not. Because I couldn't have expected anything less from someone like Holly. Someone like Holly is someone who just fits in like that. She can handle me, so she can handle anybody.

Dov pulls out his stupid trivia pack and declares a battle. Holly crushes all of us without even trying. It is scary how right everything feels though. How normal it all feels. There is no other shoe that's waiting to drop now, I think.

I think this is how it's supposed to be. And it all makes sense now.

* * *

A/N: I debated again how to tell Holly's story. And obviously I decided not to switch POV's. Too many of those piss me off, and I think two switches is just one too many. I want this story to remain Gail's POV and hers only. Thank you all for your patience for this chapter. Rest assured, this story will be completed. I just can't guarantee when updates will come. But they will come.

To be continued!


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